


Love Through Their Years

by olive_garden



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parents Maggie & Wentworth Tozier, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Child Neglect, Don't copy to another site, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Everyone is Gay Except Ben Hanscom, Fluff, Fuck Canon, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is Whipped, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier's Trashmouth, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stanley Uris Lives, a little bit, because I love him, but - Freeform, deserve a hug, fuck you he deserves better, ig, its set from when they first meet to when they're adults uwu, mainly fluff, no beta we die like men, these boys, they aren't good either, well they're not terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 35,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive_garden/pseuds/olive_garden
Summary: Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak have been friends for as long as anyone can remember. Despite they're bickering, it doesn't feel quite right for them to be apart. But, what most people don't know, is there's a lot more to their blossoming relationship than simply being 'begrudgingly best friends.'AKA Richie and Eddie have been gay as fuck for like 27 years, here's their story





	1. Way Back When

**Author's Note:**

> so uh
> 
> this is basically just fluff with the occasional mid-80s homophobia and murderous demon clown mention
> 
> this mainly follows the plot of the movies without the whole,,, yknow,,,,,,,, dying thing at the end
> 
> gonna be honest,,, first chapter? not that great.
> 
> mainly just a recap of their group from when they first met to when Chapter One is set.

Richie was six when he met Eddie. Poor, little - _very _little - hypochondriac Edward Kaspbrak. Every other day, he'd have a doctor's appointment to go to, or he'd have to go home sick because he woke up with sniffles that morning and his mother simply couldn't _bear _the thought of her fragile angel getting sick at school. He had to get tutoring on the side from how much class he was missing. Eddie was quiet but swift-witted. He carried his inhaler like a lifeline and wasn't at all afraid to conk Richie over the head with it when he got too annoying. Anyone could see - even the teachers, though they would never admit it - that Eddie was an impossibly easy target. So of course, Richie and his tiny gang of nerds took it upon themselves to protect him with their lives. The boy just didn't quite fit in with his fanny pack and pastel pink polo shirts and neatly swept over hair. That just made him even better, according to his friends.

On the other hand, Eddie also met Richie. (They were sat next to each other, after all.) Richie Tozier with his legs covered in 101 Dalmatians band-aids and blue-purple, yellow-green bruises. Richie Tozier and his unruly hair that refused to obey the laws of gravity. Richie Tozier who could walk himself to and from school in first grade. he was loud first, human second. Making jokes about people's mothers before they even knew his name, he was the class clown all the way through elementary and middle school. His favourite Sass Subject, as he dubbed him, was Eddie as he was the only one quick enough to keep up with his humour. The strangest thing about the boy, though, was his fashion. He wore khaki shorts and neon, open button ups with rock & roll t-shirts underneath that were just a few sizes too big. There were also the nicknames. Oh, the dreaded nicknames. Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, Eduardo, Bill-dozer, Billie, Billiam, Staniel, and so on and so on. His list of names never seemed to end and not one real name was ever featured.

Richie first reached out to the teeny tiny germaphobe when he was unfortunately sat away from Bill and Stan. He watched them talking and laughing from across the classroom through his taped-up, thick-framed specs and turned to the boy next to him. If they were going to have fun, then why shouldn't he? It's only fair, after all. He abruptly stuck out a hand in front of the boy's face and he very nearly jumped out of his own skin. 

"Hi!" He grinned a buck-toothed grin and pushed up his much too big glasses. "I'm Richie. What's your name?"

“Eddie,” the boy murmured, toying nervously with the strap of his fanny pack. He stared dumbly at the little hand in front of him 

“Are you going to shake my hand?” Richie asked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “It’s only manners, after all.”

”My mommy says I’ve not to touch the other kids at school.” Richie thought for a moment. What does she think will happen? Does she think that Eddie will catch cooties from the girls? Or maybe some height from the boys?

”Well, I supposed this’ll have to do.” He shoved one arm through the sleeve of his coat, leaving the fabric dangling off the end of his hand. “Now you can’t touch me! You’ll just be touching the jacket.”

Eddie hesitated for a moment before grabbing the hand, shaking it twice, and promptly letting go. Like Richie might have been carrying some kind of disease that'll make his teeth crooked and his hair curly. "That's my friends Stan an' Bill over there" Richie pointed a finger across the class to a boy with curly blond hair and another boy with straight light brown hair. "Have you got any friends, Eds?" Eddie wrinkled his nose.

"Don't call me that."

"What? Eds?"

"Yeah. And no. I don't have any friends." Richie clapped his hands together, making Eddie jolt again.

"Well, that settles it!" he said, in a terrible British accent. "You can join my group at recess, my good fellow!"

And from that point forward, the two were inseparable. Through all their bickering and their pulling of the metaphorical pigtails, (even though Richie was the only one with hair long enough to be in pigtails) their group stayed as tight as possible. Even if Stan and Bill were constantly bothered by Richie and Eddie's teasing and mocking, they would never ditch them. They were like their own little loser family.

And then high school arrived.

Suddenly, they had to deal with Henry Bowers again and everything was embarrassing. _Everything. _But was that going to stop them from being embarrassing teenagers?

No way in hell.

However, one thing that might have gotten in the way of their Rad Teenage Activities was the death of Georgie Denbrough.


	2. Summer Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this one is going to be,,, a bit better.  
more plot-ish I guess  
its cute uwu this is based off an idea I had the other day while I was out during lunch I saw this cute lil bench on the path

Almost free. Stan, Bill, Richie and Eddie were almost free of their third year of middle school. Almost free of Henry Bowers and his goons. Almost free of homework. Almost free of shitty teachers and classmates. They had one more lunch hour and half a period of history together. Then they could dump out the contents of their bags and go home, or go to the Barrens. Despite it being their last lunch hour of the year, Eddie and Richie were not spending it with Stan and Bill. No, they were spending it how they always do. By walking out of the school and eating their slightly-stale, school-bought sandwiches by the nearby lake. The muted orange gravel crunched under their feet as they ripped the plastic wrappers off of their lunches and stopped in front of their bench. Richie shed his button up and draped it over one side of the seat.

"For you, m'lady," he said, dramatically waving a hand towards the covered bench and bowing forward. Eddie rolled his eyes and batted his head before sitting down atop the bright blue shirt, his thighs protected from the sun-soaked dark wood. "You know, I wouldn't have to do that if you just didn't wear booty shorts to school every day." Eddie batted him again, on the arm this time. 

"They're not _booty shorts_," he spat, crossing his arms as Richie plopped down beside him, his legs already covered from the wood by his knee-length khakis. It was still hot enough to burn a little bit. they just _had_ to claim the only bench that wasn't covered over by a tree. At least the yellow sun made Eddie look even cuter than usual. He always tanned well in the summer. He seemed to caramelise as freckles spouted out over his face and shoulders. His hair always got a little bit curly in the humid air, as well. Sun-kissed. That's the word. "They're just... short. What sandwich did you get?" Richie took a bite, already having forgotten what he bought. He grimaced a little.

"Turkey," he replied, mouth still full. Eddie's nose wrinkled in disgust. He didn't like turkey very much. Why did he buy it, then? Oh yeah, he was too busy making fun of the fanny pack. "You?"

"Fucking swallow before you talk. Ham." Richie took a moment to down his food before talking.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Eddie my love, but sometimes it just _cannot_ wait!"

"You know I hate it, though."

"What can I say?" Richie pinched his cheek, a lopsided, shit-eating grin on his face. "You're just so cute when you're mad, Eds." Eddie furrowed his brows as a furious look took over his gentle face. Well, he already looked very annoyed, he just took that and multiplied it to the power of ten billion. He slapped Richie's hand hard enough for it to sting.

"Don't call me Eds! Or cute!" Richie laughed and ruffled his hair. He, again, swatted the hand away. "Stop! You're so fucking annoying, Rich."

"Cute, cute, _cute!_" Eddie's face flushed. He placed his sandwich down on his leg and pinched Richie's cheek. "_Ouch!_"

"See how you like it! It's not fun, is it?"

"I do _not_ pinch you that hard!"

Then, Eddie giggled. A high-pitched, sort of squeaky giggle that rang through Richie's head. A giggle that Richie never wanted to stop hearing. Richie blushed. And it takes a lot to make Richard-Fucking-Tozier to blush. His heart picked up its pace. His head was reeling in a sudden wave of...stuff. Emotions, feelings, pins and needles. Stuff. Ooey gooey stuff that made his stomach do flips. Stuff he couldn't quite explain. His mental shutdown was interrupted by a flick to his nose.

"You're staring into space, Trashmouth," Eddie chuckled and turned back to face the lake and started eating his sandwich again. It took another few seconds for Richie to properly come back down to Earth. His tongue was tie in noughts as he filled up the time with an unnecessary glasses readjustment. 

"Sorry, Eduardo, you're just too darn adorable for me to handle!" Eddie punched him in the arm and Richie fell back, sticking his tongue out to the side and going limp. Then he punched him right back. The boys fell into fits of laughter, but they would never let Stan and Bill know. Richie tried to stifle his own giggles to listen to Eddie. The boy in question facing away from him, his shoulders bouncing with snickers and his face slowly turning red as he tried to catch his breath. He shook his head and continued to eat his sandwich. Richie realised he was staring and he blushed again. He felt his face heat up and his palms grow sweaty. He fixed his glasses again and started on his own lunch.

"We'd better hurry up a bit," Eddie groaned. "We'll be late getting back if we don't." Richie snorted.

"And? It's the last day, who cares?"

"Um, the _teachers?_ Just because it's the last day, doesn't mean they'll just let us be late." Richie rolled his eyes and finished what he had just bitten off before talking again.

"Fuck 'em, Eds. We're not gonna see them for, like, three months," he reasoned, "we'll only be in the class for half an hour, anyway. Then we're outta here!" He raised his half-eaten sandwich triumphantly. and wrapped his other arm around Eddie's shoulders. It just made a lump rise in his throat and spawn butterflies in his stomach. But he couldn't just take his arm off after two seconds. That would've been weird. And just like that, he was stuck; a ticking time bomb with a red face and a nervous bouncing leg. What was happening to him? He'd caught something. That was it. He had to have caught _something_. Maybe it was the plague. Yeah. He just had the plague. That was all. For now, though, he was stuck with his arm around his friend's shoulders until they had finished their food. Eddie leaned into his side and something clicked into place, making his heart stutter for a moment. 

_Oh, fuck. _It dawned on him. _I like Eddie Kaspbrak._ Richie, of course, already knew he liked Eddie, even through his constant need to bicker and nit-pick everything he could. But Richie _like-liked _Eddie. It was why he always wanted to have an arm around him, or intertwine their fingers, or run his hands through his shiny, chestnut brown hair. _Shit. _They ate their food in silence.

Eddie checked his watch. "We should really get going," he muttered, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. "We've got about five minutes." He balled up Richie's button up and chucked it into his face. He waited at the side of the path for him to uncoil to his full, lanky and gangly height and pull his shirt back on. They made their way back to the school, getting in just as the bell rang. Richie didn't talk a lot during their last half hour of school.


	3. The Sewers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh the next five or so chapters are set during the events of chapter one and the 80s scenes of chapter two so have fun with that ig there's gonna be a lot of just quoting from the movie but imam try and just go more into Eddie's internal monologue that retyping the scenes out

If there was something Eddie hated more than anything else in the world, it would be the sewers. Specifically the sewer entrance by the Barrens. You could smell the stench of the thing from miles away and yet, there Ritchie was, trudging around in it like it was nothing more than a puddle of rain water you would find outside your house. And Bill, of course, but he was at least being a bit more careful. Stan was the only Good Guy in the situation; staying away from the opening, even if it was for the threat of poison ivy and not the shit-water. Richie was holding a sewer stick that was half his body-length. It was covered in drain juice and he was just... holding it. With his bare hands. Eddie half-wanted to kick it out of his grasp and whip out the wet-wipes he kept in his fanny pack, and he half-wanted to scream. Or vomit. Both. Richie looked back at the two boys.

"Aren't you guys coming in?" he genuinely asked. As if he hadn't known Eddie for eight years and wouldn't know that it was a miracle he was even going anywhere near the shit that vaguely looked like water.

"Nuh-uh," Eddie said, shaking his head and frowning. "It's grey water."

"What the hell is _grey water?_"

"It's basically," - Eddie stopped to think for a moment. Was there a way of putting it more eloquently than _piss and shit?_ No, he decided. There was not-, "piss and shit, so I'm just telling you!" He raised his hands defensively. "You guys are splashing around in millions of gallons of Derry pee." Richie lifted one end of the sewer stick to his nose, inches from his face. "Are you serious? What're you-?"

"It does not smell like caca to me, señor," he croaked. Eddie could've looked at his brain from the eye-roll he was about to do.

"Okay, I-I can smell that from here."

"It's probably just your breath wafting back into your face." Eddie inhaled, feeling about ready to explode.

"Have you ever heard of a _staph infection?_" Richie pointed at him with the branch.

"_Oh, I'll show you staph infection!_" 

Eddie continued to lecture him about bacteria and how unhygienic this all was until a wet lump of fabric was tossed his way. It turned into a full on bicker, both of them arguing over each other and throwing insults. there was something about Richie that just made Eddie feel sick. His stomach would bubble and churn, his heart would rush and pound, his face would go red and hot, and, worst of all, his hands would turn clammy and sweaty. He hated having sweaty hands. Detested it, even! There could not be a worse feeling than sticky, wet palms. And yet he couldn't stop wanting to hang out with Richie. It's not like he had much of a choice. It was either hang out with everyone in the group, or hang out with none.

"Guys!" Bill called out, holding up a small shoe.

"Shit, don't tell me that's," Stan started, but his voice trailed away.

"No... Guh-Georgie wore galoshes." Bill and Richie inspected the trainer with the flashlight.

"Who's sneaker is it?" Eddie asked, dreading the answer.

"It's Betty Ripsom's," Richie said.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, nervously glancing between the three boys and feeling his heart race for a reason other than Richie's general, annoying presence. "Oh, god. Oh, _fuck!_ I don't like this."

"How do you think Betty feels? Running around these tunnels with only one freakin' shoe?" Richie chuckled to himself, looking from boy to boy for some kind of reaction other than a stare that could only say 'See a therapist.' His face fell.

That was another thing Eddie noticed about Richie. No matter what the situation was, he always tried to make some sort of joke about it. Always tried to bring a little comedy to the table. He just didn't quite have a grasp on when it was appropriate or not. No brain-to-mouth filter. At least it made Eddie feel a little bit better. Even if it was super fucked up.

"What if she's still here?" Stan said, in his typical shaky voice. Bill and Richie continued deeper into the sewer, becoming harder and harder to see.

"Eddie, come on!" the latter called over his shoulder. Eddie shook his head again. Why couldn't he have asked Stan? Anyone but him?

"My mom will have an aneurism, okay? If she finds out that we're playing down here, I'm serious!" Richie gave him a look and turned back around. "Bill?"

"If... if I was Betty Ripsom," he started, "I would want us to find her. G-Guh-Georgie too."

"What if I don't want to find them?" The group stayed silent, telling him perfectly clearly that they were all thinking one thing. 'What the fuck, Eds?' "I mean...no offence, Bill, but I don't want to end up like George." He said the name quietly as he could. Like speaking softly would lessen the harshness of his statement. "I don't wanna go missing, either."

"He has a point."

"Y-y-you too?"

"It's summer!" Stan reasoned, desperate to just turn on his heel and leave. "We're supposed to be having fun! This isn't fun. This is scary and disgusting." Everyone turned to look at the source of a loud splash from behind Stan and Eddie. A stocky boy with sandy blond hair kneeling in the water. Well, it could have been blond but he was covered in so much dirt that it was near impossible to tell if that was the original colour. The four boys watched as he tried to stand up and keep running, failing as he fell back on to his hands and knees. Richie emerged from the sewer.

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" The boy looked up from where he was and stared at him, trying to catch his breath.

And thus, Ben was adopted into their gang.


	4. The Quarry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh Eddie's gay

The boys, now five of them, stood at the cliff ledge of the Quarry in their underwear, spitting over the edge. They went from left to right; from Richie to Eddie. They each spat over into water far below or onto the rock just under their feet. Eddie's didn't get far and landed with a _splat_ on the ground, but he knew he had won. He always did.

"Oh, my god, that was terrible, I win!" Richie cheered. Or maybe, Eddie _hadn't _won, after all.

"You won?"

"Yeah!"

"Did you see my loogie?" he asked, his voice incredulous and reaching a pitch that Richie was sure only dogs could hear. He gestured down to his spit. Richie stuck his hand out as well.

"That went the furthest," he explained, "it's about distance."

"Mass. It's _always _been mass."

"Wha-! What is- _what _is mass?" The two bickered for a few more seconds before Bill decided it was time to interrupt their quarrel. 

"Alright," he called out, and the two boys quietened quickly. "Who's first?" The group peered over the edge, the green-blue lake below seemingly taunting them with it's distance between them. Their hearts collectively pounded in their chests as they waited for someone to crop up and say they'll jump. And someone did, just not someone they expected.

"I'll go!" a girl said behind them. They all turned around and were met with fire-red hair, significantly shorter than it was when they were patching up Ben just the day before. It was Beverly. She unbuttoned her dress until she was standing in just her bra and underwear. They all watched as she took a running start. "Sissies," she muttered, a toothy grin on her proud, pale face. They stared in awe as she sprinted between them and leapt off of the cliff, falling hard and fast into the water.

"What the _fuck!_" cried Richie and Eddie had to stifle a snort. "Holy shit. We just got showed up by a girl!"

"Do we have to do that now?" Stan timidly asked as Beverly's head broke through the surface.

"Yes," Eddie mumbled.

"Come on!" she yelled. Ben waved.

"Oh, shit," Stan whimpered. That's something Eddie always liked about Stan. No matter how soft-spoken the boy may be, he was always ready to curse a little. Especially considering it was what they were all thinking.

Bill jumped over first. Then Ben and Stan. And it was just Richie and Eddie left. With an only slightly shaking hand, Richie took off his glasses, folded the legs, and placed them gingerly on a nearby rock. For someone as big of an idiot as Rich, he really did take care of his specs. But only after he'd managed to break them in at least three place. (Something about his parents not getting him another pair until he was practically blind with how broken they were.) He stayed a few steps back from the ledge and Eddie watched as he hyped himself up, rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked over his shoulder at Eddie, who quickly brought his eyes back up from his legs and hands and shoulder blades to his eyes. Richie's eyes looked significantly smaller without the farsighted lenses. Richie smiled. Eddie's stomach churned again and a bubble seemed to get caught in his throat. 

"You better jump in after me," Richie said. "Pussy if you don't." Eddie cleared his throat and furrowed his brows. His heart thumped against his ribs with nervousness. About jumping. Of course.

"Of course I will, jackass! Just hurry up and run off already." Richie hummed a laugh before sprinting over and disappearing from Eddie's sight. Eddie waited for a splash before letting his shoulders drop and letting out the breath he was holding. Placing a hand over his thrumming chest, he fumbled for his inhaler in the fanny pack he had left on top of the pile of the rest of his clothes. He puffed it once and some air entered his lungs. He didn't understand. He didn't understand why he could feel his face turning redder and redder as he watched Richie. Or why his tongue seemed to turn to clay whenever Richie called him one of those damned nicknames. Or why his mind turned to a drain whenever he felt Richie's scrawny arm wrap around his shoulders. All he knew was that it pissed him right off and it was Richie's fault.

"Eds! You're not a pussy, are you?" his voice floated up from the Quarry lake and pierced through Eddie's ears. He blushed up to his ears as he frowned and took a running jump off of the rocks. Below his feet, he could see the others all in the middle of the lake. Except Richie. Richie was waiting just a couple feet from where he was about to land, staring up at him as he fell. He grinned and cheered and whooped as he spotted him flying through the air, raising a fist as he landed feet first. Eddie flailed to the surface, his chest tight and eyes squeezed shut. "Nice one, Eddie Spaghetti!" He splashed water in Richie's face.

"Don't call me that, asshole." Richie splashed back and they moved to catch up with the others.

They swam around, swatting water at each other, laughing and giggling. There was just one thing ruining it for Eddie. Richie. Again. God, could this kid give Eddie a break and stop being so... stare-at-able? His eyes kept drifting to the curly haired shit-head and every time they did, they refused to tear themselves away. It wasn't until someone threw water in his face or Richie almost caught him staring that he looked away. Even after they scaled the cliff to dry off and everyone had their eyes on Beverly, his gaze was drawn to Richie's face. Richie's freckles, Richie's ridiculously big glasses, Richie's curlier-than-usual, half dried hair. He forced himself to look at Beverly, or _Bev_, as she decided they would call her. She was laying on a towel, her sunglasses casting a yellow shadow on her face. She looked over and everyone turned away. He allowed his eyes to settle on Richie now he had an excuse to not look at Bev. Richie's cheeks had flushed and he was scrambling for something to fidget with. He settled on adjusting his glasses, picking at the tape around the left leg. Any more of that, and you'll have no leg left, Eddie wanted to add. But he didn't. He simply looked away and pictured the half-scowl, half-smile that would spread onto his face as he threw a comment back, somehow linking it back to doing his mom.

He decided keeping his eyes on the ground was safer.


	5. The Missing Poster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah uh Richie was so scared of the missing poster because he thought he would go missing for being gay in his homophobic town oops

"Can't believe I pulled the short straw," Richie said, his words wobbling. "You guys are lucky we're not measuring dicks."

"Shut up, Richie." 

The leaves and debris crunched under the soles of their shoes. The entire hell hole was covered in human-sized cobwebs and a thick layer of dust that had been settling since before any of them were born. The only light that manage to get through was the dim rays that filtered through the boards on the door and the grime-covered, partly broken glass on the windows. A damp smell made Eddie recoil a little as it hit his nostrils. The place was disgusting. That was one thing he was sure of. Eddie inhaled through his mouth to get rid of the stench.

"I can smell it," he exhaled.

"Don't breathe through your mouth," Richie warned, already wandering away from their tiny group.

"How come?"

"'cause then you're eating it." Eddie retched and fumbled for the zipper of his fanny pack, desperately searching for his inhaler. he took a puff as Richie's eyes settle on the webs and overgrown vines dangling from the ceiling, draped over an antique couch that might have been white some twenty years ago. There was something stuck in the leaves. A sheet of paper. Swallowing his nervousness, he padded over as quietly as he could; as if any sudden noise might make the paper take off through the window. Trembling hands plucked the paper from the cobwebs and Richie thought he could vomit right then and there in the Wells House. He certainly wouldn't have been the first. He felt the bile rising in his throat but he pushed it down. His faced drained of blood, leaving him cold and sending a shiver down his spine, and his knees were roughly three seconds away from giving out on him. The poster in his hands was a missing poster. With his face plastered onto it. With his lips clamped tightly shut, he spun around to face Bill and Eddie. He knew this would happen. He knew what was going to happen to him the day he started to like Eddie. He knew what was going to happen if anyone found out; he's _well aware _of what his _Good Christian Town_ does to _fairies like him. _

"What?" Bill said, coming over to have a look for himself.

"It says I'm missing," Richie whimpered, voice cracking in at least three different places.

"Y-y-you're not missing, Richie."

"Police Department, city of Derry," he read, beginning to grow frantic. "That's _my_ shirt, that's _my _hair, that's _my _face!" He couldn't breathe. Not with the pouncing in his throat and chest and head._ It was going to happen to you eventually, _a nagging voice in his head told him, _you've seen the carvings. You've seen the graffiti. You should know better than to be like _them, _Richie. _

"Calm down, Richie, this isn't real!" Bill tried to snatch away the poster.

"That's my name, that's my age, _that's the date!_" His voice was high and piercing. Bill started to wrestle the poster out of his hands.

"Give it to me, it's fake, Richie!"

"No it's not, it says that, what the fuck, I'm gonna go missing, I'm gonna go missing!" He could feel tears sting the back of his eyes as he hyperventilated and Bill shook him by the shoulders. Eddie watched on in silent horror, his hands covering his mouth. "What the fuck!"

"Calm down, look at me, Richie, look at me." He swallowed and tried to look Bill in the eyes, ignoring the steel grip on his wrists from his hands. His vision was blurring with hot, wet tears. "Tha-that isn't real. I-It's playing tricks on you." Richie managed to steady his breathing to shaky inhales and exhales through his trembling lips as they turned their attention to a noise from upstairs. Moaning and thumping. (Not the hot kind, Richie noted.)

"Help me, please!" the voice wailed. _Scraaape. _The voice retched and gasped as they made their ascent up the stairs, Eddie's hand firmly grasped around the hem of Richie's shirt. They peered through the open door at the opposite end of the hall, Eddie deciding now was a good a time as any to trail behind. A girl was laying on the ground.

"B-... Betty?" Bill whispered.

"Ripsom?" She was dragged away with a shrill scream and there was nothing Eddie wanted to do more than turn on his heel and run back out the house. but Bill and Richie kept walking.

And Eddie didn't.


	6. Through The Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry the last chapter was so short, this one'll be a little bit longer since I have more original stuff to write. fluff is coming!! I swear!! also I love how we as a fandom have collectively decided that Richie breaks and enters into Eddie's house like every day.

Eddie was shrieking. His arm was bent at an angle that _definitely _wasn't healthy and he was shrieking, staring that fucking clown right in the eyes. Richie grabbed his face, pulling it to face him instead. He didn't stop screaming.

"Eddie, look at me! Look at me! You're okay- we're okay, just look at me! Don't look at It." Everyone was screaming, their sights set on the clown with the pole in its face. It lunged at the kids on the floor and they all screeched in terror. It was cackling as it swung around and slashed Ben straight across the stomach. They were still yelling as the clown backed out through the doorway into the basement, bowing and grinning as it disappeared. 

"Don't let it get away," Bill yelled and the Losers all screamed after him as he followed. He was only gone for a few seconds before Richie called for him.

"Bill, we have to help Eddie!" The boy in question was still shrieking, cradling his arm. "Okay, I'm-! I'm gonna snap your arm into place!"

"DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

"One!"

"DO NOT TOUCH ME!"

"Two!"

"No, no, no, Richie!" 

"Three!"

** _CRACK._ **

If Eddie wasn't screaming before, he definitely was now. They dragged each other out of the house, yelling and cursing all the way, tumbling over themselves to get to their bikes. Stan, after leaping down the last three steps and stumbling to his bike, rode away first, not caring to wait for anyone with Bev right behind him. Mike and Bill unceremoniously dumped Eddie into Mike's bike basket, riding away behind Richie and with Bill and ben on his tail. They cursed and screamed all the way down the road. They rode and rode until they reached Eddie's house. He moaned in pain as Bill and Mike lifted him back out of the basket. Richie was busy running to knock on Eddie's door. He'd drawn the short straw again. The door opened in the middle of him slamming his fist against the wood to reveal Mrs K towering over him.

"Mrs K, Eddie's been hurt, you-!" He couldn't even finish before she stormed out, looking furious. She snatched Eddie by his good arm and yanked him to her side, furiously pointing to the group.

"You," she spat, "_you _did this. You know how delicate he is." She waded through the kids, practically tossing Eddie into her car

"We were attacked, M-Muh-Muh-Mrs K."

"No. Don't. Don't try and blame anyone else." She slammed the car door closed and, in her fumbling, dropped the keys. Bev stepped forward to pick them up for her. "No, _back!_" She took the keys and leaned into Bev's face. "Oh, I've heard of you, Ms Marsh. And I don't want a dirty girl, like you, touching my son." There was a beat of silence as she turned back around and dug through her bag.

"Mrs K, I s-s-s-"

"No! You are all _monsters! _All of you. And Eddie is done with you. You hear? _Done!_" She stomped around to the other side of the car as Eddie looked down to his lap in quiet despair. The losers stared awkwardly as she drove off, engine puttering and wheels screeching. They all stepped out into the road and watched the car disappear down the street. Bill turned to them.

"I saw the well. W-w-w-we-we know where it is and-an-and next time, we'll be better prepared."

"_NO!" _Stan cried, making the group jolt. "No 'next time', Bill! You're insane!"

"Why?" Bev asked. "We all know no one else is going to do anything."

"Eddie was nearly killed!" Saying it out loud made Richie feel like he was going to hurl. He almost lost Eddie for good to some demon-clown fucker. There was no way he could risk that again. "And look at this mother fucker!" He pointed to Ben's stomach. "He's leaking Hamburger Helper."

"We can't pretend it's going to go away. Ben, you said it yourself, it comes back every twenty seven years."

"Fine," Ben said, still clutching his bleeding skin. "I'll be forty and far away from here. I thought you said you wanted to get out of this town, too."

"Because I want to run _toward _ something," she said, "not away."

"I'm sorry, who invited Molly Ringwald into the group?" Bev flipped him off.

"Richie-"

"I'm just saying, let's face facts, real world!" He turned to look Bill in the eyes. "Georgie is dead. Stop trying to get us killed too." he tried to get to his bike but Bill's hand stopped him.

"Georgie's not dead."

"You couldn't save him, but you can still save yourself." Bill stopped him from leaving again.

"No, t-... t-take it back!" His breath started to shake. "You're scared, and-... we all are, but take it back!" He shoved Richie by the shoulders. Richie ran and shoved him back. Bill grabbed the collar of his shirt and his fist collided with Richie's cheek, sending him flying to the ground.

"Bill!" Bev scolded. Mike and Stan pulled Richie to his feet as he tried to run back over and fight.

"You're just a bunch of losers!"

"Richie-"

"Fuck off!" 

Bill took him by the shirt again but Ben yanked him back.

"You're just a bunch of losers and you'll get yourselves killed by that stupid clown!"

"GUYS, STOP!" Bev shrieked. The tussle finally stopped. "This is what it wants. It wants to divide us." Richie couldn't catch the rest. His ears were ringing and his face burned with rage. Specifically his lip. "-That's why we're still alive."

"Yeah? Why plan to keep it that way?" Richie shoved his way past Bill and heaved his bike onto its wheels. He heard Stan and Ben follow him but he didn't care. He needed to get Eddie's bike back.

***

That night, Eddie sat on his bed and stared at the floor. At a particular swirl in the wooden boards that looked like a cat. His Thinking Cat, is what he called it. The screams of his friends replayed in his mind. Over and over again. Waves of pain were radiating through his arm, up into his shoulder and chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up for the first time in what had to have been forty five minutes. His neck ached. His back ached. Everything hurt. Turns out, falling through a ceiling isn't all that fun. His gaze fell upon the window. Cold air was flowing between the open crack and brushing his face, sending a shiver down his spine. The lights in the house across from his own flickered off, one by one, turning from a bright, warm orange to black. His eyes widened in horror as a pale hand raised above his window sill and slammed down onto the brick outside. He didn't move a muscle. Except for the quick rising and falling of his chest. Another hand rose into view and knocked on the glass. Eddie shot up, his head spinning, and grabbed his bedside lamp, yanking the plug out of its socket. Holding it as best he could with one hand and one cast as he inched towards the window.

"Hello?" he trembled, raising the lamp above his head, ready to strike any demon clowns that dared to enter his room. 

Then Richie appeared. He jumped back, nearly falling off the window sill at the sight of Eddie about to knock him cold. "Jeez, Eds," he said, "it's just me!" Eddie dropped the lamp back down onto his table and plugged it back in with a huff.

"Excuse me, but I almost got my face eaten today by a clown that crawled out of a fridge," he spat back, "so _sorry _if I'm a little jumpy." He pushed the window up further, removed the small potted plants off the shelf first, allowing Richie to clamber in, in his typical clumsy fashion. He landed with a lump thud on the bed. "What happened after I got picked up?"

"Well, we got in a bit of a fight," he mumbled, sitting up as Eddie replaced the brightly coloured pots, fixing their nametags that were stuck on by Blu Tack. Richie looked at him and smiled. "You didn't miss too much. Everyone's just kinda mad, right now." That's when Eddie noticed the large, red cut on his lip, and dried, smeared blood over his chin and cheek.

”What happened to your lip?” he asked, crossing his arms as best he could. He tilted Richie's head to the side, squinting at the cut that was still sticky with blood. Rich pushed his hands down, face flushed a deep red.

"It's nothing, just..." He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "Bill punched me." It was barely above a whisper but Eddie heard it perfectly clear.

"He _WHAT?_"

"Eddie-Bear?" his mother called from downstairs. "Are you okay? Is your asthma acting up? Is there someone up there with you? You know I told you, you couldn't hang out with those boys again!" Her thumping footsteps pounded up the stairs and Eddie, as if it were routine, grabbed the chair at his desk and shoved the back under his doorknob. He took a loud puff of his inhaler, sending Richie a glare that could only say, 'Do not make a single fucking noise.' 

"Yeah, it was just my asthma, I'm fine!" He gestured wildly to the window. Richie tip-toed back to the window sill, throwing one leg over the side. "Sorry for the noise." Richie hid a snicker behind his hand. There was a beat of silence.

"Okay, Eddie-Bear, you just go to bed now." 

"Night, mommy." Richie hesitantly stepped back into the room as Eddie let his shoulders drop. "Dude," he whisper-shouted, "you got punched? By Bill? What the fuck did you do?"

"I told him that Georgie was dead." He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking bashfully to the floor and his cheeks growing a darker red. "I needed him to get it into his head that this whole clown business is dangerous. He can't save Georgie because he's gone. He just doesn't want to accept it."

"Okay, I can kind of get why he punched you, I would too, but you're... right. For once." He sat down on his bed, patting for Richie to sit next to him. He obliged.

"God, how can you sleep on this thing? It's way too soft."

"No such thing, jackass. Was there anything else you came here for?"

"Harsh!" He slapped a hand onto his chest, over his heart. "You wound me, Eds!"

"Don't call me that." He punched him in the arm. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I just came by to say I brought your bike back and... I'm sorry for snapping your arm back."

"The doctors would've done it anyway." Eddie picked at the edge of the cast as an awkward silence filled the room. His heart was pounding. Richie had really just scaled the side of his house to deliver his bike and he could barely even summon the courage to thank him. The lump in his throat was stopping anything from getting out. There was a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach. One he'd felt before. He remembered a friend he had made in the hospital. A boy who also visited frequently. Jon, his name was. He would always make his heart and stomach do flips and then his mother would send him for another X-ray. Or two. Or five. And he vowed to never let anyone know of _those _feelings ever again. Even if he never found out what it was. "Did you put any ice on your lip?"

"What? No," he said. "It was already super bad by the time I got home, and I was a little preoccupied trying to get your bike back." He crossed his arms, huffing. "You're welcome, by the way." 

"Thank you, but seriously, you need to put something cold on that." He opened his door and paused. "Don't move." He left to go downstairs, leaving Richie alone in his bedroom. He fell back onto the duvet, scratching flakes of dark red blood off of his skin. It got stuck under his nails like mud. He hissed as his fingers brushed over his still raw lip. It had been about a week since he discovered he _like-liked _Eddie and his mind was still reeling. And there he was; laying on his bed with a burst lip and butterflies fucking shit up in his stomach. (It felt like boars stampeding in there. That couldn't be normal.) He sat up. He was going to vomit. It was a bad idea. Falling for a boy. All he could see was the carvings. The carvings that made him want to run to the edge of the kissing bridge and hurl. Or scratch them out. Or yell _Fuck it! I'm gay and you can say I'm going to hell all you bloody well please! _But then he'd get beaten up by Bowers. Or go missing. Yeah, he'd go missing and his parents wouldn't notice for a month. He couldn't help it. Eddie was easy to fall for. How could you not? His perfect hair and adorable face and stupid clothes were all just a plus in Richie's eyes. The real kicker was his attitude; his personality, as stupidly cliché as it sounded. He was so small and so filled with barely contained rage. He was sure Eddie would murder him, given the opportunity. (And he'd say thank you.) A smile spread onto Richie's face. He pictured Eddie's face going red as he poked fun at him, saying he bangs his mom. He pictured Eddie playfully punching his arm, his anger interrupted by a quiet laugh. He pictured Eddie liking him back.

But that would be too unrealistic, wouldn't it?

Richie sat up when the door clicked open again and Eddie creeped through. He was holding a dish towel which he tossed into Richie's hands as he closed the door over again. He stared dumbly at the rag in his grasp. it was cold and damp at one end. Eddie stared at him, seemingly expecting something from him. He scoffed and took the rag back. He cupped Richie's face as best he could with his cast-clad hand and pressed the fabric against the bleeding lip. It began to sting and he hissed in pain. (It must have opened up again when he smiled.) It was then he realised how close Eddie's face was to his. He blushed. His heart stuttered and he shooed Eddie's hand away to hold the rag himself. But Eddie didn't move.

"God, Richie," he muttered. He was squinting, looking right into his eyes. For a second Richie worried he could hear everything he was thinking; every time he wanted to kiss him; every time he wanted to touch him; every time he thought about telling Eddie he wanted to date him and if he didn't at least say it, he might combust. "Your glasses are fucking filthy," and with that, Richie was blind. He could see roughly three feet in front him and Eddie just happened to be outside that range. He squinted and saw him a little better. It hardly made a difference but it was something. 

"Eds? Where'd you go? There's a stranger in the room with me?" He swung his arms in front of him, feeling around the bed and holding in snickers. Eddie leaned into his face again and slid the glasses back onto his ears. 

"There," he said, standing up straight with his hands on his hips, looking proud, "you can see again."

"I could see fine, already."

"Your glasses were disgusting, okay? You're going to actually go blind from all that dirt getting in your eyes because you never clean your glasses. Your prescription is fucked enough without getting a fuck-ton of dust up in there." He continued to ramble on and on about eyes and glasses and the importance of cleaning them with a proper cloth, not Richie's gross-as-fuck t-shirts. He interrupted him by waving his hands in front of his face.

"Okay, okay, chill it, Eds." He stood up and plunged his hands into his pockets. "I'm gonna... head home. I don't want you getting into trouble, Eddie my love."

"Don't call me that."

"What? Eds? Or Eddie my love?"

"Both." His chest tightened a little. He smiled anyway and pinched his cheek.

"Sorry, Eddie Spaghetti, you're just too cute!" Before he could even reply, Richie clambered out the window and waved goodbye over the windowsill.

So maybe no more 'Eddie my love's.


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is right after they've defeated It because I'm Terrible at writing action sequences lmao so uh have fun just some bittersweet fluff uwu  
btw I cant find any clips for the dialogue I'm trying to use so sorry that it's pretty off from what was said, it's the scene when they're all looking in the shop window in chapter 2 lmao this chapter isn't as good because half of it was deleted and I had to re write it :))))))))))))))))))

The Losers were filthy. From head to toe, not a single one of them was free of the grime that lined the sewers. it was only as they stepped into daylight that it started to sink in. They had just murdered a demon clown. Eddie could see the realisations one by one. the quiet sobbing. The dragging footsteps. The thousand yard stares. Richie was the first to speak.

"So," he started. He hoped no one noticed the quaver in his voice. "That was a thing." He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders going slack and stiff. Then he raised his fist to his mouth and held up a finger. "I'm good." He lurched forward and began to turn away. "Nope. Here it comes." He sprinted to the side of the sewer exit and vomited. Eddie faced away in disgust. Richie wiped his lips while he stumbled back over. Bev took a deep breath.

"You good now?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." Solemnly, they collected their bikes and rolled them back into town. They walked in complete silence, only the sound of their bike wheels scuffing along the gravelly streets filling the air. They stopped in front of a shop window, staring at their beaten up and bruised - or vomit covered, in Eddie's case - reflections. 

"My mom is going to kill me if I come home like this," Eddie said, his skin itching as the demon gunk dried an congealed in his clothes. 

"Oh please, you've been gone for twenty-four hours straight," Richie scoffed, "your face is definitely on a milk carton by now." Eddie's knuckles turned white with his grip on the handle bars. 

"That's so not funny, asshole." They moved away from the window and started to walk up the street. Richie playfully bumped into his side, then he made a face. He scrunched up his nose and grimaced.

"Jesus, we all smell worse than Eddie's mom's slippers in summer."

"Shut the fuck up, my mom's slippers smell great, they smell like primrose or some shit."

"How do you even know that? D'you smell your mom's slippers?"

"What? No. I'm just saying, I'd know if they smelled like shit."

"Isn't primrose, like, French for disgusting or something?" Bev added, and the group snickered.

"Wh-what? Where d-duh-did-did you g-get that from?"

"I don't know," she laughed, "one of my mom's weird old books, I think." The rest of the boys laughed and stopped at the corner of the road. They said their goodbyes and turned, one by one, in their own ways to walk back home. Eventually, only Richie and Eddie were left, still chatting about nothing in particular. Anything to distract them from the fact that they just killed a demon clown. 

"Seriously, my mom is gonna kill me," Eddie grumbled and he slumped down against the wall of the shop. "I might as well have died in there. If I don't come around tomorrow, you know where to find my body."

"The bottom of the Quarry."

"Exactly." Richie laughed and sat down next to him. He slung an arm around Eddie's shoulders and sighed.

"Y'know," he started, "you could come back to my place. take a shower and I could lend you some clothes. At least then you won't have to get in trouble for the... puke situation. Then you just have the going-missing-and-cursing-out-your-mom thing."

"Thanks for the reminder, jackass." Eddie leaned into Richie's side, his chest growing tight at the pressure between them. "But, yeah. If your parents are okay with it." Richie snorted.

"My parents won't even be _in_. It's their weekly Get Away From Richie night. They won't be back until, like, three or four." That was one of the only things Eddie genuinely didn't like about Richie. He always made jokes about his parents never being in or not caring about what he did. Once he went without any glasses for a week straight because his mom and dad couldn't be assed getting him a new pair until he bumped into a table and knocked a vase over. And Richie just laughed his way through it. He skipped school because he couldn't see the whiteboard anyway and milled about in the Barrens, joking about how, maybe, he'll join Bowers' gang since he's such a bad boy now. Eddie wanted to punch him a little. Tell him to take it seriously. But he couldn't take his anger out on Rich. It wasn't exactly his fault if he had shitty parents. 

"Let's go, I really want a shower." They stood up, Richie's arm still hanging over Eddie's shoulders. They rolled their bikes at their sides so they could stay close together. Neither of them wanted to separate after coming so close to losing each other; losing _all _of their friends. They only parted once they had reached his house. Richie unlocked the door and swung it open, bowing forward and gesturing inside.

"Ladies first," he said. Eddie rolled his eyes and ruffled his hair on the way in. The place was a bit of a disaster. Dirty dishes in the sink; the bin overflowing onto the floor and another full bin bag slouched against it; the clothes left lying in unwashed heaps next to the washing machine. "Sorry about the mess. Mom and Dad have been out a lot recently and they never told me how to work the washing machine and I ran out of washing up liquid. I don't have enough for more." His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and Eddie had to try and conceal his overwhelming urge to punch Mr and Mrs Tozier square in the jaws next time he saw them. "Let's just go upstairs. The shower's up there anyway." He walked slack-shouldered up the steps and Eddie followed. He was pointed to the bathroom and Richie said he'd bring some clothes that might fit him well enough. He 'yeah'd and 'uh huh'd all the way through as the muck on his skin had started to dry and was falling off in flakes and peeling. Richie gave him a plastic bag to wrap his cast in and left him to bolt into the shower. He rubbed his skin raw as the vomit peeled off his skin like PVA glue. Except this glue was black and smelled like sewer water and made him feel like he was going to blow chunks. He knew the clothes were never going to be saved. They could be burned behind an empty apartment building or some shit. Halfway through his deep-cleaning session, there was a knock on the door. Richie's thin arm and bony hand dropped a small pile of clothes on the radiator. Eddie continued to scrub away as long as he could without plunging the Toziers into debt by sending the water bills sky high, and he pulled on the clothes. They were floating on him.

Richie had left corduroy shorts, washed to the point of being softer than any corduroy he had ever worn and faded in colour. Even with the fading, they were a deep maroon. There was a hole in the bottom of the pocket that was sewn half-shut in bright green thread. There was a thick, black belt to keep them from falling down his waist. There was a black Guns 'n' Roses shirt that Eddie recognised from after he went to a concert of theirs with his dad in fifth grade. He'd been bouncing with excitement the whole day before and after, mainly because he was finally going to spend a whole day with his father. The shirt was comfortable against his red and irritated skin, also washed to be softer than the scratchy fabric it used to be. the band logo was cracked and chipping, the roses surrounding the name faded to a soft pink. Richie had worn it to death. The socks were supposed to go over his knees but they slipped down his calves to hang around his ankles like striped leg warmers. He couldn't have cared less if he tried. All that mattered was that it was warm and smelled... comforting. But, then again, wouldn't anything other than shit-water smell like home after being stuck in a sewer for hours?

He walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, rubbing his hair half-dry with a towel, and flopped down onto Richie's bed. Said boy also fell down next to him. They stared at the ceiling, both wanting to talk but neither having any idea what could possibly be said. Eddie took a deep breath.

"It's so-" he said.

"Y'know, I-" Richie also said.

"Wait, no-"

"You go."

"No, you were talking first."

"No, it's fine. You start." Eddie inhaled again, holding his breath just a little longer this time.

"It's so weird," he started, "just heading home like nothing happened after... everything happened. We almost died and my first thought was 'God, I can't wait to take a fucking shower.'" Richie laughed a little.

"You have a point." He smiled and looked down to their hands. Almost touching. Barely an inch apart. So close, yet so far. It was dangerous enough for him to have laid down so close to Eddie that their shoulders were pressed together, never mind holding his hand!

"What were you going to say?" He blinked.

"What?"

"You were saying something earlier, what was it?"

"Oh, uh... it's dumb. Never mind."

"When has that ever stopped you from saying literally anything?" Richie snorted.

"You're right, um..." He swallowed thickly and tried to send his nervousness down with the lump in his throat. "Do you think we'll be okay after all this?" Eddie turned his head to look at him.

"What do you mean?" Richie took Eddie's cast-clad hand in his own. 

"Like, are we going to stay friends?"

"I'm not getting you."

"It's just, I've heard that friends tend to separate after super fucked up shit." Tears burned in the backs of his eyes and he looked away at the wall, not wanting Eddie to see him cry. "In movies and comics 'n' shit. Y'know?" He cleared his throat and sat up, perching on the very edge of the bed but keeping his hand on the cast. "Told you it was fucking stupid." He laughed dryly and wiped his eyes, trying to make it look like he was just scratching his cheek.

Now, Eddie wasn't quite sure why he did what he did. He seemed pretty sure of it in the moment, but maybe it was the rush of adrenaline. God, he was overreacting, it's not like he did something super drastic. He just sat up and yanked Richie into a tight hug. It hurt his arm a little bit but he didn't care. He simply buried his face in Richie's shoulder and pulled him close. "We're not going to split up, Richie," he mumbled as best he could through the fabric of Rich's shirt. "It's going to take a lot more than a clown demon to separate the Losers. Especially us. We're best friends."

"Yeah." Richie sighed as quietly as he could. He hugged Eddie just a little closer; nothing he would notice. "Best friends." _And nothing more._

"Even if you're still a total shit stain." Eddie laughed and shoved his face away, the tighter hug already becoming too much for him. He stopped laughing when he saw the tiny tears in Richie's eyes. "Oh, shit, are you okay?" Richie wiped his eyes with the ball of his hand, chuckling and sniffling.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He shuffled away from Eddie. "Just feeling like a bit of a pussy today."

"Need I remind you, you called a demon an asshole and hit it in the face with a bat today?"

"You literally kicked that bitch in the face!" The two boys laughed until it fell into an awkward silence. Richie drew his hand back quickly; quicker than he should have. "I... I'm gonna go shower."

"Yeah. You smell like ass." Richie stuck his tongue out at him, gathered up a change of clothes, and left through the door. Eddie collapsed back onto the duvet. He ripped his fanny pack open and took a deep puff of his inhaler and clutched it to his chest. His face grew warm and he could just tell it had turned red. Even if his mom couldn't point out the vomit anymore, she would certainly call for an ambulance for his sudden 'fever.' He screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to think about his mother for the time being. The only other thing he could think about was Richie. Richie's bird's nest he called hair, Richie's lopsided grin, Richie's stupid, dopey glasses. His lips, his thin and bony hands, his warm eyes. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He shouldn't be thinking of his friends like that. He was sick. In the head! And physically. That was the only explanation. He was ill and needed to go to a doctor. Some good old medication would fix him right up. He hated to say it, but he missed when he didn't know his pills were bullshit. He'd be able to swallow his meds and convince himself he'd feel better by morning. And he usually did. It was routine. He'd hang out with Richie for too long, feel ill, down a pill, and feel fine in the morning. He couldn't do that now.

But this time he had to be sick. He had to be.

He hadn't realised how long he'd been spaced out, in his own little world, until Richie fell down on top of him, soaking wet hair flying into his mouth. He spat it back out. "Earth to Eds!" Richie cackled. "Spaghetti Man, do you copy? Over."

"Rich, you asshole!" Eddie shoved him off and hit him in the face with his towel. He tousled his dripping hair with the towel until it stuck up in every possible direction, half of it falling in front of Richie's eyes. He took the opportunity to flick his nose.

"Ouch!" Richie toppled over onto Eddie's side. "That was assault Eds. I simply _cannot _go on!" He stuck his tongue out and went limp on Eddie's shoulder. He smiled. Then he cleared his throat and stood up. 

"I should get home. My mom will call the fucking police if I'm not back soon." He stretched his arms up in an obviously fake yawn. "Besides, it's been a long day, I need to sleep." He sped stiffly to the door but stopped before he left. "And don't call me Eds." Richie waited until the front door clicked shut and the faint sound of Eddie's bike faded into the distance before dropping his head into his hands. He blew it, didn't he? He made him uncomfortable and made him leave.

_Fuck, _was all he could think. _Fuck..._


	8. Late Night Visits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha nothing out of the ordinary here just Richie visiting Eddie after seeing Pennywise again definitely didn't make it as heart breaking as I possibly could :)  
warning for f-slur mention

Fresh tears ran down his face, hiccups and sobs ringing through the air. Richie pushed his hands under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. With a sniffle, he took to picking the grass out of the ground and tossing it into the Barrens river. _Stupid Bowers. Stupid Henry Bowers and his stupid fucking gang. _He threw a large stone into the water with a yell, his anger bubbling over the top. It splashed water on to his shoes and he buried his face back into his hands. He allowed the noise of the Barrens to wash over him. The wind ruffling the grass. The birds chirping. The water folding over on itself and crashing into the riverbank. Then a voice cut through the newfound silence.

"Richie?" It was Eddie. The last person he wanted to see. It's not that he didn't like Eddie - it was quite the opposite, really - but he didn't want his crush to see him bubbling and sniffling like a baby. He feverishly wiped his eyes and turned to give Eddie a wobbly smile.

"hey, Eds! What're..." He sniffed. "What're you doing here?"

"I could say the same to you." Eddie settled down next to him and crossed his legs into a basket. "Why are you crying?"

"Bowers. And his shitty fucking gang." Eddie rubbed his back. His fingers were gentle and hesitant, sending shivers down his spine.

"Why were they bothering you?"

"Turns out I was hanging out with his cousin in the arcade," he laughed, "dude called me a fairy because Bowers walked in. He yelled at me, called me a faggot, and now I'm here! How's your day been." 

"Do you like him?"

"... What? Yeah, kind of. He's a nice kid."

"No, do you _like _him?" Richie's face flushed. "Are you... 'a fairy?'" Richie went back to pulling grass from the earth.

"I mean... would you be chill with it?" he asked cautiously. Eddie smiled, took his hand, and Richie's heart pounded against his ribcage.

"Of course," he said softly. "I'd never stop being friends with you, Rich."

"Oh... then - um - yeah." It felt like a weight had slipped off of his shoulders and come crashing to the ground. His chest loosened and he could finally breathe again. "I don't... _like-like _him specifically, though," he added quickly.

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Eddie shuffled a little closer. "I've seen how you look at me." Richie's face grew hot and red.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean _I know you like me." He giggled. "Bev told me to watch you. You look at me like I cured cancer or some shit." He felt the blood rushing to his face, his head pounding.

"B-Bev told you?"

"Yeah, everyone knows about it. All the Losers know." Richie's stomach churned. He was going to be sick. He wanted to tell them, but not like this. _He _wanted to tell them. _He _wanted to tell Eddie. "Do you like me, Rich?"

"I... um..." Richie swallowed thickly. _Here goes nothing. _"Yeah. Yes. I do."

"Can I kiss you?" His heart jumped into his throat and he turned to look Eddie in the eyes. To see if he was serious. And he was serious. Even with his rosy face and cheeky smile, he knew Eddie wasn't joking. Hesitantly, he nodded. Eddie was the first to start leaning in, his eyes fluttering shut. Richie followed suit and squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell was he supposed to do? He'd never done anything like this before, no matter how much he joked about having done it many times. Because that's all they were: jokes. Jokes about people's moms or sisters. Now he was lost. His stomach flipped and filled with even more panic as a hand laid gingerly atop his own. He could feel Eddie's breath against his face.

Then he heard a giggle. Then laughter. Eddie was laughing at him. Richie opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he chortled. He raised his hand to cover his face. "I didn't think you'd actually fall for it."

"What?" Richie could feel his heart thumping and shattering in his chest. Eddie's grip on his hand tightened, too tight for him to easily pull away. "Eddie, I-" He stopped when he finally met his eyes. Bright yellow. "Eddie?"

"What?"

"How did we first meet?"

"I moved to your class in third grade, why?" A cold shiver washed over Richie and the reality dawned on him.

"You're not Eddie."

his skin began to pale and crack. His lips turned purple and his hair began to thin and fall out. "Is this what you want?" He was rotting. Eddie was fucking rotting in front of his eyes. He thought for a moment that his hand was going to break under 'Eddie's' hold. "This is what happens to people like you, Trashmouth!"

He shrieked with laughter, _It's _cackling overlapping with Eddie's. Richie finally broke out of his paralysis and started kicking himself away. He tried to wriggle his hand free until Eddie released him and he went flying backwards, landing in the freezing cold river. He watched Eddie fall apart at the seams, chunks of flesh falling off and into the water. Blood was seeping through his polo shirt, staining the salmon pink fabric a deep, dark red. He limped toward him. Richie covered his eyes.

"It's not real," he desperately told himself. "It's not real, he's not real." After a few seconds, he peeled his hands away from his eyes. No Eddie. No rotted flesh. No fucking clown. He dropped his head back into the water, his face almost going under. He didn't care. "_Fuck._"

That night, Richie all but sprinted to Eddie's house. He scaled the side of his house, slipping the whole way up in his soaked-through shoes. He tried to knock as quietly as he could but the shaking of his hands made it sound like a hailstorm. He tumbled through the window as soon as it was open.

"You look like shit, what happened?" Eddie asked. He shut up quickly when Richie bolted upright and cupped - more like grabbed, if he was honest - his face, eyes wild with fear. His gaze flickered over his features then down to his arms and legs.

"How did we first meet?"

"What? Why the fuck-?"

"_Just tell me how we fucking met, Eddie!_"

"Alright, geez! Don't yell, my mom is sleeping down the hall. We met on the first day of first grade, now will you please tell me what the fuck is going on with you?" Richie's hands slipped down into Eddie's lap and then let his head fall onto his shoulder. Tears slipped down his face. Eddie wasn't quite sure what to do, so he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Richie's back and stroked his hair down. It sprung right back up as soon as his fingers released the strands. "Rich?"

"I saw Pennywise again." Eddie froze. 

"_Shit,_" he hissed. "We didn't kill it?" Richie shook his head into his shoulder. He grabbed the sides of Eddie's shirt.

"It looked like you, Eds," he said through a sob. "He pretended to be you to... _get to me._" Eddie pulled him closer, a lump forming in his throat. That clown pretended to be him. It hurt Richie and made _him _do it. 

"I'm so sorry, Richie." He carded his fingers through the dark, thick hair. It was surprisingly soft for someone who didn't give a shit about keeping their hair nice. "What happened?"

"It was like when you came out the mattress in the Neibolt House, but worse." He sniffled and pushed up his glasses. "You were rotting... and falling apart. It was terrifying. It took my hand and I couldn't get away and-" he was cut off by another sob. He covered his mouth with his hand, which was covered in dark purple bruises. Eddie was surprised he could still move it. He continued to let out muffled cries into his palms as Eddie rubbed his back. He wanted to tell him everything. About how It had laughed at him, about how he almost _kissed _it. But there was no way Eddie would let him stay if he knew of all that. "I don't remember too much. I was busy trying to get my hand back." He couldn't speak through his crying and Eddie pulled away just enough to see his face.

"It's over now, okay?" He cupped Richie's tear-stained face in his hand. "You're okay, I'm okay. Everything is okay." Richie nodded and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Yeah. Everything's fine." He smiled as best he could at Eddie. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"You're welcome. You're a real pain in the ass sometimes." And they were back to normal. No more 'sharing feelings' BS. "Do you want to maybe... spend the night? It's pretty late and you're not exactly fit to cycle home alone." Richie was on the verge of overheating. Edward Kaspbrak, the boy he'd wanted to kiss for God knows how long, the boy he'd only _just _figured out he liked, the boy who could settle with anyone - because _anyone else_ was better for Eddie than Richie Tozier - was asking him to sleep over. And it's not like he'd never been to a sleepover with Eddie. it's not like he's never slept in the _same bed_ as Eddie. They'd stayed over in Bill's basement, they'd slept in Stan's living room on his dad's pull-out couch, they've camped out in Richie's lounge. But he'd never been over at Eddie's house. His mother never allowed it. And he'd never slept over with _just him. _

He nodded his head.

"I have a clean jumper you can wear, it's too big on me anyway," Eddie mumbled, mainly to himself, as he rooted through his drawers until he pulled out a thick, cable-knit sweater. It was patterned like his grandma's old rug with muted navy blues and oranges and reds. He pulled off his shirt and quickly pulled the sweater on. The cuffs stopped just at his hands and the torso was just loose enough to be baggy but it till fit right. He just knew Eddie would be swimming in fabric if he wore it.

"Christ, Eds, how did you think you'd ever fit in this."

"I thought something oversized would be comfy, but it was just kind of cold." He threw a pair of pyjama trousers at Richie and they hit him in the face. Eddie turned around and waited for Richie to change. The trousers, in comparison to the sweater, were _very _uncomfortable. They stopped a few inches about his ankles and it didn't help that Eddie's waist was way smaller than his. 

"Eddie, does this even fit _you?_" Eddie turned around and his face flushed.

"Mostly, yeah," he said, and he lightly punched Richie's arm. "Be grateful I'm not chucking you right back out that window." He sat down on the bed and swung his legs under the duvet.

"So where am I sleeping?" Eddie patted the space next to him. "What?"

"What?" He quirked a brow at Richie's incredulous face. "We've slept together before, what's the matter?" Richie slowly began to nod.

"No, yeah, it's fine," he spluttered and climbed in next to Eddie. The boy then reached over him and turned the lamp off and they fell into silence. Richie stared out into the room, eyes tracing over the floor and wall space that was highlighted by the moonlight filtering through the window. Eddie's arm slinked over his waist, a hand resting on his chest. 

"So, you're a little spoon now?" he snickered. Richie scoffed.

"Don't judge my cuddling preferences. Doesn't make me less of a man. At least, that's what your mom-!"

"Beep beep, Richie." He shuffled a little closer to Richie until his chest was pressed against his back. "'night, Rich."

"G'night." 

Richie slept better than he had in weeks.


	9. R + E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie becomes just a little less dense in this chapter get excited boys  
this one is A Lot shorter than the last few so i'll try and have the next chapter finished as soon as possible uwu

Chips of wood cracked off of the railing and fell to the ground as Richie carved away. He cut shaky letters into the Kissing Bridge; R + E. _Richie and Eddie. _Oh, he could only dream. When he finally cut out the last stroke of Eddie's initial, he leaned back and admired his handy-work. He wiped his eyes before standing up. He lingered for just a moment. If only Eddie could see it. If only he could show Eddie; he'd lead him by the hand along the bridge until he could reveal, with a flourish, his efforts to show his affection in public without getting the shit beaten out of him by the Bowers Gang or some particularly religious adults and have it be ignored by the police. He trudged off the bridge and took one more look at the carving before cycling away.

Eddie's heels dragged along the wood of the Kissing Bridge, scraping the ground and leaving a faint trail in the muck. He played a small tune on his whistle as his eyes constantly flitted around to check if anyone was secretly listening. His gaze trailed along the wooden borders, the carvings and graffiti either cursing out the gays and damning them to hell, or proclaiming love for someone or another. He slowed down occasionally to read them, speeding past the ones about 'those dirty homos.' He continued to look for the cute carvings that made him smile every time he passed them until he spotted a certain couple of letters.

An R and an E. His heart clenched as he stopped in front of it. He blinked and it was still there. _Of course it's still there, dumbass. _He rolled his eyes at himself and crouched down in front of the carving. R + E. That was a new one. It still looked fresh; dark, unlike the faded markings surrounding it. He traced his fingers over it, over the R. Something small in him, in the very back of his mind, told him it was Richie. That Richie had come down to the bridge, pocket knife in hand, and cut his and Eddie's initials into the bridge. 

Wait, _Eddie's initials?_ Why would Richie be cutting out Eddie's initial? Why was he even _thinking _of Richie cutting out his initial? Richie was straight and Eddie was being ridiculous. Eddie was straight, too, of course. Right? Yeah. _Right?_ He would never like Richie that way, anyway... But, then again, who said anything about Eddie liking him? He shot up and paced back and forth, taking a puff of the inhaler he knew didn't do anything. Did he like Richie? He couldn't like Richie, he was a _boy__!_ The carving was not even two feet away from the spray-painted words 'The Souls Of The Gays Are Filthy!!!' He couldn't like him, not in Derry anyway. And now he was even admitting it to himself.

"This is bad," he muttered to himself, "this is really fucking bad." He stopped in his tracks in front of the carving again and he couldn't help but feel his face get warmer. The more he looked over it, the more intense the fluttery feeling in his stomach got. The harder his heart seemed to pound. The more his palms seemed to sweat. He couldn't be sick. Physically, at least. He just... he couldn't even say it.

His mother had always told him that liking boys made you dirty. Dirty like Beverly Marsh. Dirty like all the other girls in his school. Dirty because that's what his dad thought. And he didn't want to be dirty. He was supposed to be the perfect son; how could he be perfect if he couldn't even like the right gender? He didn't even know if Richie was the one who carved that and he was already playing an image of the boy sticking his pocket knife into the wood over and over in his head. His mom would kill him if she ever found out. Found out what? He didn't want to say it just yet. He wanted to have just a few more minutes, or hours, or days of blissful unawareness to the fact that he had a crush on Richard Tozier of all people...

Fuck. 

He sat back down in front of the railing and a small smile crept onto his face. He shoved it back off and looked away. He shouldn't be happy that a boy might like him. He _should _be upset. Disgusted, even. Like his mother would be. he should be disgusted that Richie might like him. But he wasn't. He had butterflies raving in his stomach and he couldn't keep his lips from turning up for the life of him. He was happier and sadder than he'd been in months. He knew there was no hiding from the fact that he liked Richie, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it for the rest of his days. He knew that it probably _didn't even belong_ to Richie. There were tons of kids and teenagers whose names started with R or E; statistically speaking, there was a very low chance that Richie made it. He would have told Eddie by now. They tell each other basically everything. _He_ would tell Richie if he was gay. Which, he supposed he was now. He began to understand the secrecy the more he thought about telling Richie or any of the other Losers. His stomach sank. The very idea of sitting them down and telling them he liked guys - or, at least, he liked Richie - made him feel like he was going to vomit. Okay, so maybe he didn't need Rich to tell him anything yet. If he was even hiding anything. No, why would he be interested in Eddie? At all? He was an over-thinker with a germ phobia and the inability to keep his cool for more than two minutes at a time. Rich was just... better than him. There were better people out there; better _girls _out there. Girls who wouldn't yell at him and call him an asshole and tell him to shut up.

He would never tell Richie. Maybe he would never tell _anyone_. But he could share it in a different way...

Eddie shot to his feet and, checking for anyone who could be watching, ran to the edge of the bridge then down to the river bank below. He rooted around in the rocks, looking for something with a sharp tip. He picked one up that was about the size of his palm. It was heavy and came up to a point at the top, giving it a raindrop shape. He headed back to the bridge. To the carving. To the R + E. He looked for a blank space until he spotted an empty chunk of wood a couple bars below. He knelt down and began to carve a stiff and shaky R into the space. The curve met as a triangle, despite his efforts to make an actual curve. _How the fuck did Richie manage this shit?_ He paused. _I mean... Person whose name also happens to start with R who fancies someone whose name also happens to start with E. _He leaned back onto his heels to look at his work. An R. Not quite as good as his inspiration. After a moment of thought, he started to carve again. He could hear the voice in his head, the one that told him everything he did was a bad idea, saying _People will know you made it, Eds. Richie will know you made it. _That, and _This is how you get splinters, Eddie-bear. _Sometimes it sounded like his mom. (He didn't listen to that one as often as he maybe should.) Once he was finished, he tossed the rock back over the railing and it hit the water with a loud splash. He compared his carving with Mystery R's carving. An R inside a shaky heart. He smiled and checked around once more for peering eyes before setting off back down the road and back to his house. 

When he reached his house, he could tell he was in for a row as soon as he realised how long his trip to the pharmacist had taken. Almost as soon as he opened the door, his mother started yelling.

"EDWARD KASPBRAK. GET IN HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE." He shuffled into the living room and saw his mother standing there with her hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

"Yes, mommy?"

"Why did you take so long? I thought you'd gotten hurt out there, you can't scare me like that, Eddie, you have to come back as soon as you get your meds..." He paid less and less attention to her as she continued to ramble, her face growing red in anger. he decided to interrupt.

"I'm sorry, mom," he tried, "there was just a hold up at the pharmacy. There were more people and he had to get my meds out from the back. I'm fine." His mother's eyes bored into his face and he refused to meet them. She sighed loudly through her nose.

"You go to your room," she said, pointing a finger out the door, "and you think about the way you've just spoken back to me. Go." Eddie shamefully turned around and disappeared up the stairs. After hiding in his room and shutting the door with a quiet click, he laid down on his bed and shoved a pillow over his face. He groaned loudly into the fabric, his knuckles white with his grip on the cover.

"I am so _fucked_," he mumbled. "_So_ mother-fucking fucked."


	10. The Hammock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Kicks Richie In The Face: The Movie  
I can't find the full scene so you'll just have to bear with me on the dialogue aspects oops

The Losers, one by one, climbed down the ladder and landed in the clubhouse. It was dark and dusty; filled with loose dirt and held up by rather flimsy support beams. 

"What the dick is this?" Richie said, looking around at the half decorated room. "How'd you build it?" Ben landed behind them, a proud smile on his face.

"I just came and went over the summer," he said, a smug lilt in his voice as he leaned against one of the wooden boards keeping the ceiling up. It shifted under his weight and a panel came crashing to the floor, sunlight streaming in and filling the room through the new gap in the roof.

"Now, _that's _a cool feature," Richie mocked. "What happens when you put your hand on the other pillar, professor?"

"Okay, you see, this is _exactly _why we get permits and safety regulations for buildings," Eddie spluttered, his lips moving a mile a minute. "What the fuck is this?" He hit a small, black box hanging from the ceiling with his hand. 

"A lamp," Ben muttered, already sick of Eddie's shit, "so we can see better if it's too dark." Eddie moved on to pick up a small bat and ball. Richie couldn't even make out what he was saying from the speed of his words as he started to bounce the ball off the wood into Stanley's face. "Be careful with that, it was three dollars," Ben tried to interject. Eddie kept batting the ball until the string snapped and it fell between the floorboards.

"Good one, Stan, you broke it."

"_I _broke it?"

"I'm not getting that," Eddie said with a wrinkled nose as he looked down in disgust at the mud covered ball. Richie rolled his eyes and he and Bill shared a look. A look that either said, 'This is who I want to spend my life with?' or 'Why are my friends so annoying?' It wasn't hard to figure out who meant what.

"This place is cool, new kid," Bev said. Ben's cheeks turned a rosy red. "Really cool."

And so, the clubhouse became their home away from home. Each day, they brought their own little trinkets and decorations until they had strung up fairy lights, filled the shelves with comics and books and cassettes tapes, set up a hammock; it was their escape from the world, from school, from their parents. And it was known only to them. The only problem was the hammock. Richie hogged it every single time they were there. One day, as he was lazing in the hammock, reading a comic, Eddie was almost at his tipping point. 

Richie looked up as Stan cast a shadow over his comic. He had a frilly shower cap in his hand. He grabbed it. "The fuck is this?"

"It's so you don't get spiders stuck in your hair while you're down here," he replied with a small smile, gentle as ever.

"Stanley, we're not afraid of fucking spiders." He tossed the cap and looked to the rest of the group as Stan moved away. They were all pulling on the shower caps. "I stand corrected." Eddie yanked the cap back off and Beverly laughed.

"That's a first."

"Touché." Eddie stormed over.

"Hey, Richie, your ten minutes are up," he snapped.

"What're you talking about?"

The hammock, ten minutes each was the rule!" Richie looked around, frowning.

"I don't see any sign." He shrugged and looked back to his comic.

"Are you being this way right now? No, no, no, no," he spluttered, cheeks flushing in anger. "Why would there be a sign if it was a verbal agreement?"

"I don't remember agreeing to anything."

"We agreed. On. The fucking rule-!" He interrupted himself by clambering into the hammock with Richie. It was all elbows and knees and bony corners. The Losers watched on in disbelief at the fact that these fourteen year olds still acted like toddlers. They kicked and shoved each other as they tried to settle into any position that was at all comfortable. At least they had some form of entertainment for the few seconds it wasn't annoying.

"I can see your vagina."

"Ten minutes _each__!_"

"Get back in your dumb little corner."

"I wanna go in this hammock."

"I fucked your mom!"

"No you didn't! Take that back you dick-face!"

"Fuck you! Your toes taste like your mom."

"Your ass has been there for _twenty-three minutes!_" 

After another minute or two of grunting and arguing back on forth, they settled with their legs tangled among each other, feet in each other's faces, but content enough to stay where they were. Richie hated to say it, but he was absolutely shutting down on the inside. His face was warm and his heart was pounding. He hid his burning face behind his comic, the pages creasing under his grip. He stared and stared and stared at the pages but he took nothing in. All he could focus on was Eddie's hand on his leg. _Eddie's hand _was on _his leg._ His Gay Panic got even worse as Eddie's thumb started rubbing up and down his thigh. He was mere seconds away from combusting. His eyes met with Bev and she gave him a weird smile that he can't quite decipher the meaning of. He looked away pretty quickly. Folding the top of the comic over, he let himself look at Eddie. Eddie looked different that he did the year before. His freckles had reappeared from over the school year, soaking up the sun in each little dot. His hair was shinier, softer-looking. Richie could just imagine running his hands through it, seeing the dark brown strands card between his fingers. Eddie looked great. Healthier. he'd gotten a little taller, but not by much. He'd stopped taking the fake-as-shit meds his mother provided him with, even if he did still hang on to the inhaler. He was just... so much happier. He had a sort of glow to him, now. Eddie's head turned just enough to see Richie out of the corner of his eye and he ducked back behind his comic, fully aware of how lovesick he must have looked. 

Lovesick. Richie stopped once he thought of that word. He didn't know if he was in love with Eddie. He was fourteen and had barely had a crush on anyone before. Or maybe he had had crushes on people, on boys but he didn't know it. Because how was he supposed to know what one felt like when he had always been told he was supposed to get certain feelings for girls, and _only _girls? He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe he _was _in love with Eddie. Maybe he wasn't there yet. But he had a feeling it was coming soon. 

Then Eddie's foot slipped under his glasses and tossed them off his face. Then it hit him in the cheek. And he decided _Okay. Never mind. _

He sent a glare Eddie's way and the boy just smirked back. Some shit-eating smile that he probably had no idea how cute it made him look. Richie just nudged him back, in his waist with his heel. Eddie flicked his comic. Richie folded it closed and batted him on the head with it. Eddie began to laugh as he grabbed another comic and hit him back. The hammock swung a little as the two boys wrestled, laughing and throwing stupid insults with no bite behind them. Little did they know, Bev and Stan were watching them. They gave each other a look. A look that said 'Something's going on here.' Then they turned back to Richie and Eddie for just a moment before going back to whatever they had been doing before hand.

They eventually stopped hitting each other with comic books and they settled down to quiet giggles and hummed laughs. They end up looking at each other's flushed faces, dopey smiles on both their lips. Then Richie cleared his throat and leaned back in the hammock, suddenly feeling awkward and too close. Too close to Eddie's face. He wondered if Eddie could tell his feelings just by looking at him. What if he was being too obvious? Sure it wasn't the 50s anymore but they were exactly going to run around tossing rainbow flags into the faces of street preachers and Henry Bowers, especially in Derry. He couldn't let Eddie know. There was already the rumours that he was a flamer that had been spreading like an airborne disease, he didn't need it getting out that it was true. 

He couldn't risk ruining his friendships like that. Not with Eds. _His __Eds. _Even if he couldn't date Eddie, or hold his hand, or kiss him like he'd wanted to for upward of a year by then, he was Richie's best friend. There was no way he was going to let something as stupid as liking boys take that away from him.

But maybe he would tell Eddie one day. About being gay, at least. And maybe Eddie would be okay with it. Richie smiled to himself and let the thought fill his mind as he pretended to read his comic again. It was a nice thought. And, one day, it might happen. 


	11. Girls, Girls, Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to add some love for my boy Mike uwu he deserves it  
they're 15 now btw  
short n sweet chapter cuz I got my pining across and set up the background Stan n Mike stuff lmao last minute decisions queen

"I," Mike said loudly, spreading his arms out wide to silence the group, "have a girlfriend." All the boys started whooping and yelling, clapping him on the back and laughing. Stanley just smiled in his usual quiet fashion.

"That's great, man!" Ben slung a friendly arm round his shoulders. "Who is it?"

"Y'know Peggy Smith?" The boys got rowdy again almost immediately. "We have to keep it secret, though. She's white and her parents are a bit more... _traditional _that most." The group winced and settled back down amongst the rocks and shrubbery. "What about you guys?" 

"Wh-what?" Bill said.

"Girls, man! How's it going? What girls are you into?" 

"Didn't know we were the type of group to get into girl-talk," Richie snorted, desperately wanting to move onto another topic as fast as possible.

"Why not?" Mike sat down next to Stanley, his dopey grin still on his lips. "It's fun."

Eddie and Richie's stomachs dropped. 

"W-well, I re-really miss Buh-Buh-Bev," Bill started. "B-but, we all d-do, duh-duh-don't we?" Ben nodded.

"Do you know when she's visiting from Portland next?" he asked, his eyes lighting up just a little.

"Yeah, she's coming for a week at the end of October." The boys cheered. The group always felt a little bit quieter without Bev's sarcastic quips and comments. Stan especially was less talkative. Richie always thought he just felt more comfortable unleashing his sass when there was someone else dishing it out with him. No one could match the Uris sass. He was also pretty certain that every Loser had had a crush on Stanley at some point - God knows he did for a while - and no one wanted to sass him too hard, just in case it ruined their chances. (It wasn't his fault the dude was gorgeous.)

"What about you, Richie? Got a girlfriend yet?" Ben asked. Richie laughed awkwardly, though he tried not to show he was nervous. 

"Eddie's mom, obviously." He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. 

"Shut the fuck up, Rich," Eddie snapped. "You're so not fucking funny."

"I'm kidding, _jeez,_" he laughed, "but seriously, if I had a girlfriend, you guys would be the first to know about it." 

"Any girls you're interested in?" He felt his heart beating in his chest and he cleared his throat. _Why me? Why did they have to ask_ me_ first?_

"Um, not really." Eddie snorted.

"Really? What about Barbara? Or Kasey?" He fiddled with his fingers, avoiding looking Richie in the eye. "They're in your physics class, right?"

"Well, yeah, but... they're not really my type, I guess." Richie sat up straighter. "Anyway, Staniel, what about you? Any ladies in mind?" Stan shrugged, staring off into nowhere in particular.

"I don't know," he mumbled, "Ginny is kind of pretty. She's Jewish, so my parent's wouldn't mind."

"You can't base your relationships based on what your parents would mind or not," Mike laughed, lightly punching Stan's shoulder. "I mean, I didn't think of what my grandpa would think of Peggy."

"Tell us more about her," Ben said, "I don't think any of us know her all that well." Eddie and Richie sat back and settled down as they listened to Mike launch into an adorable ramble about 'his lovely,' as he called her. His arms were waving about in animated gestures; it was the happiest any of the Losers had ever seen him. The rest of the Losers exchanged looks, making a silent agreement that if this Peggy girl ever hurt Mike, she would face Hell for the rest of her days. Eddie let his eyes wander over to Richie's face. He looked content. Happy, even. He just wished he could go on a rant about Richie. A good rant. Not one about how much he hated when Richie talked about fucking his mom, or how Richie needed to wash his hands more often and get the dirt out from under his nails, or how Richie should try taking a comb to his hair and flatten out the curls that defied gravity on a daily basis. Instead, he wanted to talk about how much he wanted to count the freckles on Richie's cheeks, how soft his hands looked despite how rough his palms actually were, how cute he was when he didn't wear his glasses, even if he looked better with them on. But, even if he could go on one of these rants without worrying about being punched; everyone knew Richard-Fucking-Tozier. He couldn't talk about anything that people wouldn't already know purely from hearsay. He turned his gaze away from Richie when he heard Mike say his name.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" he mumbled, face flushing at the fact he had zoned out. Mike seemed too excited to notice.

"I said have you got any crushes on anyone?" 

_"_A few people, really. Richie. Richard Tozier. Trashmouth. That kid with the stupid glasses and shitty hair_._" And then he dragged Richie by the wrist to somewhere quiet and kissed him till their lips turned blue and they lived happily ever after as stupid-happy boyfriends. The end.

Except Eddie didn't say that. And he didn't do that. Instead he said, "Ugh, why would I want to... _trade spit_ with a girl? Do you know how many species of bacteria there are in the human mouth? Between one and two _hundred_. That's _disgusting._" He gave an over-exaggerated shiver and stuck his tongue out, groaning. The boys laughed and moved onto another topic and it felt like the air itself gave a breath of relief to release the tension of its proverbial shoulders. Or Eddie and Richie's shoulders. Though neither would admit that. Eddie tried not to look at Richie; he didn't want to space out again. So, he looked at Stan. Stan who had the most lovesick grin on his face and the most adoring eyes that he'd ever seen in his whole life. And it was aimed at Mike.

So, Eddie _wasn't _the only gay guy in the group, was he?


	12. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because the Bev Knows All headcanon is the best thing to ever grace this fandom don't @ me

Eddie hated horror movies. He hated the blood and guts and monsters, no matter how many times anyone told him that they were just special effects. It made him want to vomit. It was gross, the people who made the movies were gross, and the people who enjoy those movies were gross.

And all of his friends were gross.

Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulders, firm and present against his skin. He leaned into Richie's side, pulling the blanket over his nose, ready to cover his eyes at a moment's notice. Richie snickered as Eddie flinched and jumped with every little noise. He'd seen the movie before. The Shining. (One of the only books he'd ever read, as well.) He'd seen basically every movie they had on their list: The Thing, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Fog, Carrie. The screen cut to a set of twins standing hand in hand at the end of the hall. He winced. _Ah. The worst scene. _Richie could handle a lot of things. He told a child-eating demon he was going to kill it and then hit it in the face with a bat, for fuck's sake! But he hated the twins from The Shining. And if _he_ hated that scene, he knew Eddie would _despise_ it. 

He brought his hand out from under their blanket and tugged the hem over his eyes. He let his hand drop back in his lap when Eddie held the fabric himself. He looked around at the other Losers instead of the screen. None of them seemed to be bothered. Most of them hadn't even seen The Shining before. He looked back to Eddie, who was peaking over the blanket, brows knitted together and eyes trained on the TV with a look so intense he was worried it would burn holes in the screen. Richie followed his gaze just as the twins went from standing to laying on the floor in a hallway splattered with blood. He heard a quiet whimper from Eddie. Then something grabbed his hand under the blanket.. And that something was Eddie. He was suddenly grateful that the room was so dark as a deep blush spread across his cheeks. His hands were sweaty. They were clammy and gross as fuck, but he didn't want to pull his hand away. Eddie would pull away once the scene was over anyway. It's not like he didn't like holding Eddie's hand - because holy fuck he's _holding Eddie Kaspbrak's hand, _he'd be insane to not mentally revel in the moment -he just really didn't want to mess things up or make it weird. _Just push through it, Rich, _he told himself. _You'll be able to slip out of your gay panic soon. He'll call you gross or whatever and then you can chill. _

The movie ended and Cujo was put on and Eddie still didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he had intertwined their fingers and laid his head on Richie's shoulder. His heart was beating a mile a minute but he had managed to loosen up a little so he didn't feel like a stack of bricks for Eddie to lie on. He'd been staring at the film, unblinking, for who knows how long, but he hadn't taken in a single frame, too busy trying not to do anything that would make Eddie want to sit back up. Eddie didn't know what he was doing. He knew that he grabbed Richie's hand in a moment of panic but he did _not_ need to lace their fingers together. Or shift over so he was practically laying on top of the poor guy. But Richie hadn't shoved him off yet and he was too comfortable to move, so what was the harm? It's not like the Losers were opposed to cuddle piles and it's not like Richie and Eddie had never done this sort of thing in front of their friends. God, he was making it sound like cuddling was some highly inappropriate shit. Like it was a Bedroom Topic or whatever. Eddie tried to turn his attention back to the movie, but the first thing he saw was a bloody dog bite that was almost _definitely _infected with rabies or some shit. (He didn't really know, he hadn't been paying attention.) He turned his head into Richie's shoulder, squeezing his hand a little tighter. Richie slid his free hand up to pet Eddie's hair, snickering a little.

"It's just a dog, Eds," he whispered, supressing a laugh.

"Don't call me that, ass-face," he grumbled back.

"Just saying."

"I hate when dogs get hurt in movies, though."

"I thought dogs were just 'loud, fluffy disease deliverers.'"

"But Saint Bernards are great."

"SHHH!" Bev hissed. Richie rolled his eyes and continued on with playing with Eddie's hair. Bev let her view wash over the two boys tucked into the corner of Bill's shitty Basement Sofa. Pressed against one another, relaxed, fitting together like puzzle pieces. Richie's spindly hands brushing through Eddie's locks, their shoulders pushed firmly together, their legs tangled together under the blanket in attempt to keep their feet off of the floor. And, of course, the dopey, tired, stupid-lovey-dovey grins on their faces that neither of them could see. Bev pushed down a giggle and leaned forward, elbowing Stan in the ribs. "Look at them," she whispered, pointing at the pair. He gave them a good, long look, squinting in the dark, before whipping back around to face Bev, and mouthing a quiet, 'What?' She quirked a brow. "Do you not see it?"

"See what? They've always been like that."

"Oh, Stanley... you sweet summer child." She patted him on the head, ruffling up his curls, and leaned back in the arm chair, squishing herself back into her place beside Bill. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, 'kay?" He pursed his lips for a second, looking confused.

"Okay...?" Bev shook her head, chuckling to herself. Cujo ended not long after and she stood up, clapping her hands together. 

"Alright!" she announced. The boys turned their attention to her. She flicked on the lights and groans filled the room. Richie and Eddie quickly shuffled off of each other. "It's Scooby Doo time, bitches."


	13. This is an Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bev n Stan, the dream team woo

"Richie and Eddie are gay." Stan choked on his water.

"What, like," he said between coughs, "for each other?" Bev slammed her hands down on the table.

"Yes, for each other!"

"Did they tell you?"

"Well... no, but I just _know _it, okay? I thought you would notice easier than anyone else in this group." She huffed and crossed her arms, shaking her head. Stan scoffed.

"Don't get mad at me, Bev, not my fault they're _always _like that."

"I'm not angry, Stanley. Just disappointed."

"Why should I know better anyway?"

"Because you're gay, dumbass." Stan waved his arms about, shushing her in a loud hiss.

"Keep your voice down, there's not a lot to go around," he whispered. His coughs subsided and he cleared his throat. "Plus, I'm _bi, _not gay. Anyway, why are you telling me this?"

"I don't think they realise that they both like each other and it. Is. _Infuriating_." Stan raised a brow. The hypocrisy was staggering.

"Okay, so they're dumbasses and we hate them, what's new?" She pursed her lips, slowly drawing an impatient breath through her nose.

"Y'know, for the guy who supposedly gets told everything by these losers, you sure are clueless." He raised his hands in offense, mouth falling comically open. "Just come with me." 

Richie had left a little early that morning. He needed to do some grocery shopping for when his parents got back from their business trip that afternoon. He hadn't seen them in a month and he had just enough money left over from what his dad had sent to the house to get another week's shopping. He told everyone he just didn't feel like cleaning up with the rest of them. Beverly and Stan followed him out, the trio agreeing to hang out in a nearby park, wanting to take advantage of the cool October air before it was just cold and shitty. Richie pulled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, taking a long drag before offering it to Bev. She shook her head. Richie scratched the back of his neck, trying not to look them in the eye as they stared at him with the intensity of a thousand suns. "Okay, you didn't drag me out here to murder me, right? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Richard 'Trashmouth' Tozier, this is an intervention!" Bev announced, poking him hard in the chest. 

"Bev, sweetie, I think you're forgetting that you also smoke," he laughed, waving his cigarette around between his two fingers, ash flaking off and falling onto his jeans. "You've smoked for longer than I have."

"This isn't about smoking, Rich," she said. She jumped down from the wall they were perched on and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "This is about your heart-eyes for a certain Kaspbrak." His face flushed and he stubbed out his fag against the bricks.

"You don't think I've actually got a thing for Eddie's mom, right?" Richie snickered and fixed his glasses.

"No. You have a thing for her son, though." Richie coughed and his leg started to kick against the wall, a nervous habit he'd developed not long after the summer of '89. He laughed again but it was much more forced and nervous this time.

"What do you mean? Eds is my best friend, but I don't... feel that way about him." He swallowed hard, plastering on a smile that couldn't even fool a duck with half a brain. "What even, uh, gave you that idea? Like, that's so weird." He laughed again and cleared his throat.

"Are you serious?" Stan asked. He slung an arm across Richie's shoulders. "Rich, you two looked like a married couple last night." His face grew even more red, not just from the cold.

"We're just close friends, Staniel, nothing new about it." Bev and Stan shared a look. "Is this really all you dragged me out to do? Ask if I want to get my rocks on with my socks on with Eddie?"

"Look, Richie, we know something's up with you." Stan tried to give him a warm smile. "If it makes you feel any better talking about it, I'm bi."

"And he has the hots for Mike."

"Not relevant."

"I'm sorry, you already knew about this, Bev?" Richie looked offended. "And when was _I_ going to hear about this? I mean, the whole liking Mike thing was obvious, but when were you going to tell me?"

"Not important right now, this is about you and Eddie."

"I already told you, I don't like Eddie that way." He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his knuckles white with his grip on the wall's edge. "Can we just drop it?" He looked down into his lap.

"You don't have to tell us anything, but... you're terrible at hiding it, Rich. Terrible." Bev nodded along, trying to a hide a smile. After a long pause, Richie sighed and clapped his hands together.

"Fuck it, yeah, I like dudes. I've known since I was thirteen or fourteen." He tilted his head back in thought. "No, yeah, I was thirteen. It was just before the whole clown thing." He crossed his arms over his chest, his foot still smacking against the brick. "Y'know, I thought I would tell you two differently. I wasn't even really planning on telling anyone _at all_, but I think this was a bit easier than what I had planned." Stan and Beverly's faces softened.

"We didn't mean to pressure you or anything," Bev mumbled. She hopped back onto the wall, wrapping an arm around him, just below Stan's. "Sorry if we made you uncomfortable." Richie sniffled and pushed a hand under his glasses to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.

"Nah, it's fine," he said. His voice was watery but they could hear a genuine smile in it. "It's nice to tell someone. How'd you figure out I like Eddie?"

"How could we not?" Richie laughed, elbowing Stan in the side. "Have you seen the way you look at each other? It's adorable, you dork."

"Seriously, you were all cuddled up and smiling and blushing," Bev cooed, dramatically leaning into Richie's side. His cheeks reddened again, shoving her face away.

"Okay, I get it! I can't hide shit!" The group laughed and moved into a tight hug. "So, you really pulled me out here to call me gay and catch me getting emotional. I'm wounded, Bevvy, Stan the Man."

"Well, we were gonna ask Eddie as well."

"Make sure he doesn't have an asthma attack, fuckin' hell."

***

Stan decided he should go see Eddie alone. They had set up a time to meet up and study anyway, so why shouldn't he bring it up? 

Oh, boy.

Stan lifted his eyes above his book and saw Eddie, resting his face in his palm. He looked bored beyond belief as he sighed, slowly flipping the page. He knocked a couple times on the desk, the noise loud as bullets cutting through the silence of the library. Eddie looked up, happy to have a distraction from physics. _I should've gone to study with Richie, _he was thinking. _He's annoyingly good at this shit._

"Eddie," Stan whispered, leaning across the desk.

"Yeah?" Eddie whispered back.

"How are things with Richie?"

"They're fine... Why?"

"Do you have a crush on him?"

"_What?_"

The librarian hissed at them to be quiet from her desk and she returned to her book, but not before sending them a glare that could kill. 

"What the fuck do you mean, 'do I have a crush on Richie?' Of course I fucking don't, why the fuck would I like someone like him. He's my friend, sure, but even _that _is on the fucking fence." his face was bright red up to his ears and Stan had to try his hardest not to smile. He knew what saying the word 'fuck' a million times in one sentence meant when it came to Edward Kaspbrak.

"Alright, jeez, forget I asked."

"No, you listen here, I do not fucking like him like that, okay? I'm not gay, not that there's anything wrong with that, and even if I was, why would I like Richie? He's... well, he's fucking Richie! I cannot fucking believe you, Stanley, why the fuck would you think that?" He was about to answer when Eddie just held up a hand and continued his ranting. "No, I don't even want to know. I am so fucking- ugh, I _cannot_ believe you, of all people, would think I had a crush on that fucking trashmouth. So not cool." And he picked up his back and textbook, and walked out of the library. Stan laughed quietly to himself. 

He had his answer; Eddie was head over heels for the guy.


	14. Pickup Truck Adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I know how the chapter title sounds but I Promise they don't do the horizontal mambo in a pickup

"It's cold as _balls_ out here," Eddie said through gritted teeth. He was huddled close to Richie, not thinking to have brought a jacket thicker than a couple of centimetres. Richie rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack onto the ground. He unzipped it to reveal a few comic books and empty chip packets from when they couldn't find a bin. He rifled past the books, careful not to crease the pages until he pulled out a thick sweater. He tossed it at Eddie's face.

"Maybe bring an actual coat next time instead of a polyester cardigan," he suggested as Mike and Stan patted around their pockets for the car keys. The four boys had decided to go on a little trip in Mike's pickup truck now that he was the first of the Losers to get their driver's license. He was home alone for a few days so no one could tell him not to take it. Bill couldn't come because him and his family decided to take a holiday; get away from Derry for just a bit. None of the losers could blame them. Ben was busy visiting his grandmother a town over and couldn't come either. Bev was, of course, in Portland, so she was ruled out as well. So it was just Richie, Eddie, Stan and Mike. Eddie elbowed Richie in the ribs but pulled the sweater on nonetheless. Stan eventually whipped out the keys and threw them over to Mike.

"Shotgun!" Stan cried as he jumped into the passenger seat as soon as the car door was unlocked. Mike got in next to him.

"Hey!" Richie yelled, "it may have been warm earlier today but it's fucking freezing out here, we can't just sit in the cargo bed!" Stan leaned over and whispered something to Mike, a small smile spreading on his face. They had a silent conversation for another few seconds before Mike reached down under his seat and thrust a blanket out the car window. 

"Here," he said. "Huddle or something." Richie took the blanket and the bastard closed the window on him.

"You better let us switch when we're halfway home!" he tried but it was no use; Stan had turned on the radio already, _Thriller _playing from Mike's shitty mix tape. He groaned and turned back to Eddie, who was shivering considerably less now, and started to climb into the cargo bed. 

"Are you fucking serious? He's making us sit in there?" Richie pulled him up into the back with him and held up the blanket. "That's it? That's our plan to not die of hypothermia?"

"We're not gonna get hypothermia, dumbass." He settled into a corner and laid the blanket over his legs, zipping up his coat. "Now, either sit with me or you can freeze to death on your own." Eddie huffed and dropped down beside him as the car rumbled to a start. Richie threw the blanket over him and they huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, and they pulled the blanket up to their chins. Eddie zipped up his windbreaker and shuffled a little closer as the car started to roll along the gravel covered path and the wind slapped against their faces. Their noses and cheeks turned red and cold within minutes as the two boys held onto each other for any warmth they could contain, shivering and teeth chattering.

"This sucks major ass," Eddie whined, rubbing his and Richie's hands together. It didn't do much, hurting more than it warmed them up.

"At least Ben and Bill aren't with us," Richie laughed, "they won't stop talking about girls, lately." Since Bill and Bev broke up, rather painlessly and without as much heartache as anyone expected, him and Ben have been talking nonstop about girls they find cute or that might be interested in them. Ben not so much, but Bill seemed head-over-heels for one girl named Audra Philips. She fit well into their group but it _was_ getting a tad annoying when she was the only thing Bill would go on about. She made him happy, though, and that's what mattered most. Ben just seemed to be trying to move on from Beverly since they can't see each other as much, anymore. He didn't want to make things awkward within the Losers Club by dating his friend's ex-girlfriend. In a stupid moment of not being able to keep his words down his throat, Richie went on to say, "I know how much I talk about girls and shit like that, but I don't get it."

"What d'you mean?" Eddie lifted his head from Richie's shoulder to look at his face. 

"I mean, I know I'm a total pussy slayer, _but_-" Richie paused to snort at his own joke, "-I seriously don't get why all our friends are so crazy about girls." Eddie groaned and Richie prepared for the worst.

"Oh, my _God_, same." Eddie laughed. "I don't understand it. Because kissing is unhygienic and gross," he added on quickly. "I mean, there is _so_ much bacteria in our mouths, it's disgusting."

"I don't know. I always thought it'd be nice."

"What? Kissing someone?"

"Yeah."

"Ew," said Eddie, fully acknowledging how much he wanted to kiss him. 

"What are you? Twelve?" Eddie punched his arm, face burning. "But seriously, that _cannot_ be your only reason." 

"I guess I don't really... see the appeal? God, that sounds awful, I just- I don't really see girls that way. Like, I find them pretty and everything but I can't imagine being _with_ a girl. Y'know?" He shook his head, leaning back against Richie's side. "It probably sounds stupid." Richie shook his head.

"No, it makes sense, I get it." He shifted a little, pulling his knees to his chest and adjusting the blanket to fall over his legs. Eddie did the same. "I don't see why it's a big deal, though. The other day, I told Ben that I'm not looking for a girl to date, or, at least, none of the girls in school have caught my eye or whatever the hell people say, and he fuckin' _freaked._" He cackled a little, his shaking shoulders jostling Eddie's head enough for him to sit up straight. "He couldn't believe that I wasn't actually as serious about going down on girls as I always say I am."

"I remember, when Bill was talking about Audra, I said I didn't know any girls I would date and he just gave me this... look. Like, this." He pulled away for Richie to see his face; he furrowed his brows and squinted his eyes, tilting his head until his cheek was almost touching his shoulder. A look of pure confusion. Richie snorted. "He couldn't get it, not thinking about dating girls for more than ten minutes." The boys laughed among themselves, but Eddie slowed to a hummed giggle and he watched Richie, noticing how much he'd changed. His hair, now having grown into more curly than messy and unkempt, bounced as he laughed, falling behind his glasses as it had grown longer to the point where it covered his ears. His cheekbones and jawline were sharper, more angular, but he still looked young. His uneven teeth that earned him the nickname 'Bucky Beaver' from classmates, protruding ears that always got red when he blushed, and giant, thick framed glasses kept him looking like a kid. Eddie had this suspicion that he would only start looking his age when he was in his mid-thirties. He looked down to Richie's lips, pulled into a grin, and his chest felt tight all of a sudden. Like it had been tied into a knot; the kind of knot you'd have to get someone with long-ish nails to pick at for hours until it came loose. Richie seemed to notice him staring because when he finally looked up, his gaze met with Richie's eyes. His face felt warm as he stared into the deep brown, magnified by the specs.

Without any inner consulting between his Everything is a Bad Idea half and his Yeah, But Richie is Cute half, he slowly started to lean forward. Richie didn't lean away; he only tilted his head to the side. Their eyes closed and Eddie could feel his light breath on his cheeks. Richie's hand' tightened their grip around Eddie's a little as they got closer, and closer...

Then the car lurched, thoroughly snapping them out of their trance. They steadied themselves as to not topple on top of one another. The driver's window rolled down. "Sorry!" Mike called before rolling it right back up. Once they settled themselves back into their corner, Eddie cleared his throat, avoiding looking at Richie at all. He'd had enough staring at Richie that day. They still huddled together, although they were probably blushing enough to independently warm themselves up.

"Sorry," Eddie mumbled.

"Don't be," Richie mumbled back. He fixed his glasses, something he always did when he was nervous, and guilt flooded Eddie's chest. 

"No, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."

"I wasn't- I'm _not_ uncomfortable."

"Oh."

They didn't say much else on the drive back home. 


	15. Back to School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are Back On Their Bench, Babey!!!!!!!!!

Richie stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete pillar as he heard the shuffling of sneakers against the ground among the noise of other students ambling out of the school to get their lunch. Eddie was by his side seconds later.

"See, this-" he gestured to Eddie's sullen face before throwing the cigarette but on the ground and crushing it with his boot, "-is why you don't take art. All the teachers are shit at their jobs."

"Yeah, whatever, I just didn't have anything else in that column I liked." He rolled his eyes and rifled through his bag, pulling out a ham sandwich he had bought at break to avoid the line at lunch. "Mister Davis may be a total dick but it's better than sitting through a single period of music."

"Excuse me, Misses Jones and I are _best friends_." He raised his hand to his chest in faux offence. 

"I thought your Teacher Bestie was Misses Bailey."

"Ah, but that is only 'cause I'm good at physics." Eddie hummed and they made their way out of the gate and down the path, toward the lake. They walked past houses covered in scaffolding and builders, the grass becoming more unkempt and long as they neared the lake until they found the road above the path that Their Bench sat upon. Swans milled around the water, respectfully keeping their distance from the boys but honking at them like cartoon car horns nonetheless. The signets flapped and faffed about, their tiny legs kicking wildly under the water, as Eddie and Richie tried to focus on them rather than the thick silence hanging heavy between them. Things hadn't changed much during that day in the back of Mike's pickup; in fact, they'd hardly changed at all. Richie still cracked jokes about fucking Eddie's mom, and Eddie still told him to shut the fuck up, grumbling out his 'Beep beep, Richie's whenever necessary. But it was moments like this, moments they were alone that they noticed the difference. The quiet moments either being comfortable and nice, or oppressing and feeling like they should be building up to... something. What that something was, was not a something they knew, but it always felt strange once one of them finally decided to break the quiet and start a conversation.

They hopped down from the road to the path lining the outside of the lake and headed to their bench. The sun had beat down on it long enough for it to be pleasantly warm but not feel like it was going to melt their thighs off. Eddie ripped the plastic off of his lunch and scrunched it up in his hand. "Didn't you get anything?" he asked as Richie sat back, crossing his arms and watching the birds. 

"Nah," he sighed, "I had a lot for breakfast." He eyed Richie for a moment but didn't say anything. He didn't seem in the mood for talking about it much more. Eddie just ate his sandwich in silence, waiting for something to talk about to pop into his head, or, better yet, Richie's head. Richie had always been better at moving a conversation along than him. He never seemed to be able to stop talking but now, the only thing playing on repeat in his mind was _Come on, Rich. You've killed a demon clown, you can make the first move for once and hold a boy's hand. Don't be a pussy, Rich. Bev would make fun of you forever if you don't do this right here, right now._ He shuffled closer until their knees knocked together, leaving them with just enough space to rest their hands next to each other on the wood of the bench seat.

"So, are you coming over tonight?" Eddie asked, breaking the silence like a hammer through glass.

"I think so," Richie answered dumbly. At least, he felt dumb saying it. There was nothing stopping him from coming over, especially when Eddie hadn't told him he couldn't. "Yeah. I will. My parents are out on a date thing overnight at some fancy hotel so I don't have to be sneaky or anything." A blatant lie, but better than saying 'My dad has been on a business trip for two months now and my mom will be blackout drunk anyway, why should I stay in the house?'

"Nice." Eddie started poking at the grooves in the wood. He played with the plastic wrapper of his now finished sandwich but stopped when the crinkling felt too loud. He watched Richie's knee bob up and down, the shuffling of his foot crunching against the tiny stones covering the path. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"Yeah."

"You _sure?_"

"Yeah, Eds, I'm fine. Don't worry your pretty little head about it." He shoved his hand into Eddie's hair and ruffled it.

"Don't fucking call me Eds!" He grabbed Richie's hand and brought it back down onto the seat but he didn't take his hand away. At least, not fully away. "Why do you call me Eds anyway? I don't call you _Dick_ just 'cause your name is Richard."

"But that would just be cruel, Spaghetti Man, I believe they call that bullying." He tried to sound nonchalant as he stared down at their hands. They were touching. _Come on, Rich, this is your opportunity!_ "Plus, Eds is adorable. Dick is not. How did people even get _Dick _from _Richard__?_" Eddie shrugged.

"Maybe someone just doesn't like people named Richie." He paused for a few seconds. "I mean, people named Richard." Richie shoved his side.

"Asshole!" he laughed. What he did next, he knows was stupid and reckless; he linked their pinkies. He was half expecting Eddie to pull back and give him a weird look, say his hands were super gross or something. But he didn't. He just kept talking.

"I wouldn't be an asshole if you would stop calling me those dumb nicknames."

"Nah, I think being an asshole is just in your nature."

"And being a total Trashmouth is in yours."

"And being in your mother."

"Beep beep, Richie."

They fell into quiet once again, their hands tightly holding onto each other. Then they heard it; the shrieking giggles from down the path, shrill and unwelcoming. Richie looked up and saw a group of girls wandering along the edge of the lake right across from them. _They'll see you. They'll see you holding hands with a _boy _and they'll know you're just a fucking fairy. _He hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to let go of Eddie's hand. (Eddie didn't seem to want to either, seeing as his grip tightened upon laying eyes on the girls.) He didn't want to let go just because someone might judge them. He didn't want to have to worry about what others thought of him being with a boy. He didn't want to have to tip toe around while he tried to win Eddie over. Still, he came to his sense and pulled his hand back, shuffling closer to the end of the bench. Eddie gave him a small look before sliding in the opposite direction. They looked away from each other and tried to look casual as the girls hurried past them, chattering away about this and that. (Apparently, Maxine has a new boyfriend and he's _already_ cheating on her, the dickhead.) 

"_The dickhead,_" Richie mocked, earning a snort from Eddie. "God, just tell Max to dump his ass!" The boys laughed, trying not to get the attention of the gaggle of girls.

"We should probably go soon, we'll be late for fifth period."

"Aww, but Eds, I'm _dying_ to hear about this new boyfriend!"

"Oh, shut up."

They eventually got up and started to head back. As shoulder bumped into arm, Eddie realised how much Richie had changed in height. When he was thirteen, he'd been standing at just 5'1", but now, at sixteen, he towered over Eddie's head at a giant 6'1". Well, giant compared to Eddie. 5'8". It endlessly pissed him off, but at least he could see Richie from a pretty good angle. They made their way back to school just as the bell began to ring, said an awkward goodbye, and parted ways. Eddie looked down to his hand, still feeling cold with the absence of Richie's hold. He thought about his flushed face, freckles riding high on his cheekbones and a smile tugging the corners of his lips up as they poked fun at the girls' gossip session. He thought about Richie's uncharacteristically soft voice while they held hands. And one word came to mind: 

_Nice._


	16. The Gameboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are gonna become less frequent from Wednesday onwards cuz i'm gonna be back in school n getting homework n shit I've just been trying to get as much done over the October break lmao

Ben couldn't help the grin on his face as he strolled up to the Losers, his hands behind his back. Bev grinned widely and gave a full arm wave. Eddie nudged Richie in the side, snickering.

"When do you think they're gonna realise they're head over heels for each other?" he mumbled. "It's so annoying, they're so obviously into each other!"

"Yeah." Richie pursed his lips. "Tragic." They stopped talking so they could hear Ben's announcement from their place, leaning against a wide nearby tree.

"So, I finally save up enough money to-" He pointed to Richie, who promptly started drumming his hands on the tree bark. Ben waited a few seconds before continuing, "-get a Gameboy!" He pulled the small console out from behind his back and the group lit up. As nerdy as the bunch were, none of them were particularly into video games. Stan had his bird watching, Richie preferred arcade games and comics, Bill and Eddie liked reading books more - _actual_ books, not _comics_, Eddie would add - Mike didn't have the time for games and Bev just wasn't that into it. But that didn't mean they weren't going to try and kick each other's asses at Tetris. (Even though they knew Eddie would win.) The group cheered, debating on who would get to play first, after Ben of course.

"I'm literally going to murder you at Tetris," Eddie snickered.

"Yeah, I know, but I can still destroy your ass at literally anything else."

"Oh, really? Name one game."

"Street Fighter. Pac-Man. Super Mario Land."

"You can't 'beat someone' at Super Mario Land."

"I'd still be better than you at it." Eddie flicked his ear and crossed his arms over his chest. From across the Barrens, the Losers, who had all been leaning over Ben's shoulders to watch him play, let out a loud collective groan. Richie hummed a laugh and tugged his black jean jacket off his shoulders. Black just like the rest of his outfit. "It's fucking _boiling_."

"It's not boiling." Eddie rolled his eyes as he took a bottle of coke from the box Stan had brought along and tossed it to him. "You're just wearing all black on the first sunny day we've had this month, dumb-fuck."

"Ex-squeeze me, Edward Spaghedward, if I do recall it was our very own Gorgeous Miss Marsh that got me this jacket? Would be simply reprehensible to not wear it out, especially after she helped me sew all the patches on." It was his favourite thing to wear at the moment. Covered in patches of the NASA logo, AC/DC, weed leaves, Guns 'N' Roses. He'd started a collection and was even borrowing needles and thread from Beverly to attach them. You could hardly tell the denim was supposed to be dark grey through all the patches. He wasn't the best at sewing, his thumb covered in tiny pinpricks because he refused to wear a thimble, but he was, admittedly, getting better at the basics. Richie's whole style had really darkened, but he managed to pull it off somehow. He was all band t-shirts, ripped jeans, black nail polish, cheap rings and heavy boots and he was dead-set on getting a few piercings and tattoos from whatever seedy guy who knew how to sterilise needles he happened to find.

"Just admit you're a goblin who's allergic to sunlight." Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie's neck and messed up his hair with the other hand. "Oh, fuck off!" He shoved Richie's face, knocking his glasses askew. "Oh, you dumbass." He started laughing at the half-magnified eyes he could see through the squinty coke bottle glasses. 

"How am _I_ the dumbass? I'm not the one who smacked me in the face," Richie huffed. He popped the top off of the bottle and took a swig. Eddie just laughed and shifted around to face him.

"If you're not gonna fix them, then I will." He pulled the glasses off of Richie's face and took a good look at the tape covering almost every inch of the legs and bridge. "How are these not literally falling right now? I'm scared to even clean them."

"I just pull the frame off and then tape it back on when it's clean." He shrugged and picked at the grass. He didn't like not wearing his glasses and he disliked other people handling them even more, but when Eddie had them, it was a small exception. (He was still on thin fucking ice.) 

"Why don't you get new ones?"

"Don't have enough money. Now can I get my glasses back or what? I'm not exactly thrilled to be legally blind at the moment." Eddie snorted and slid the glasses back on. Richie couldn't quite tell whether it was just the glasses or if Eddie was actually that close to his face, but his face flushed bright red either way. Their eyes met and for a moment it was just them. Just them and their thrumming hearts and their red cheeks and their fluttering stomachs. Richie's couldn't help himself but look down to Eddie's lips. They looked soft, unlike his own chapped lips. He really should use lip balm more. His eyes drifted over Eddie's freckles, speckled over the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones like splatters of paint. Too faint to see unless you got up close and personal. And up close and personal was an understatement for how near his face Richie was. He thought, at least. He still didn't know if it was the glasses playing tricks on him. "You're staring, Eds." He tried to sound confident but it came out wavering and like a breath more than a sentence. 

"Don't..." Eddie trailed off. The rest of the Losers groaned loudly, bringing him back to Earth. He cleared his throat and leaned back against the tree. "Hey, Rich?"

"Yeah?" 

"Can I-?"

"Hey, Eddie!" Ben called over. He saw Bev and Stan squint at each other, frowning. "Do you want a turn?" Eddie swallowed thickly and pushed himself up.

"Uh, yeah! Sure." He turned around to Richie one last time before walking off and said, "I'll tell you later."

But when was he planning on telling Richie that 'later' was another term for 'four months?'


	17. The Tattoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie's an edgy bitch lmao

When Eddie cycled up to the Quarry, he saw all the Losers circled around Richie. He rolled his eyes and dropped his bike, calling to the others, "What did he do now?" Richie waved to him with a bright grin on his face. 

"Eddie, come look!" he yelled back. Eddie trudged over, resting his chin on Ben's shoulder to see whatever the Losers were fawning over. Richie had his right arm held up, showing the back of his forearm and revealing a tattoo. Black text with something red in the middle. It took Eddie a few seconds to recognise it. The word _LOSER _with a bright red _V_ scored through the S. It's what he had written on his cast when he was thirteen. After he had broken his arm in the Well House. He still remembered when he had the V drawn on.

_Eddie sat on his bed, sniffling and rubbing the tears from his face. He tried to hold in his whimpers and hiccups; he didn't want his mom to hear. He didn't want _anyone _to hear him. All he wanted was to be alone. He didn't want another person making fun of him. He took another glimpse of his cast; LOSER in black sharpie the whole top of his forearm. His chest tightened as he read it over and over again, picturing Greta's deceiving smile as she wrote on the plaster. He already knew Greta was an asshole; Bev made sure of it. He was such an idiot for letting her write something... He looked up when he heard a knock on his window. Richie's coke bottle glasses poked up over the sill, one hand still up to knock on the glass. Eddie feverishly wiped his eyes and slid the window up. He was about to tell him that he didn't want him inside when Richie clambered on in anyway. _

_"Heya, Eds." He grinned and dusted himself off but his smile fell when he caught sight of Eddie's face. "Whoa, are you alright? Why are you crying?"_

_"I'm not! Just get out of my room," he snapped back. "Leave me alone." Tears welled up in his eyes again, slipping down his cheeks and onto his shirt. _

_"Hey, no, tell me what's wrong." Richie sat him down on his bed and closed the window, one hand rubbing Eddie's back. _

_"It's stupid," he mumbled, covering his cast with his good arm._

_"I don't care if it's stupid. What happened?" He met Richie's eyes, flooded with concern; genuine worry and no judgement to be seen. He couldn't say no to him._

_"It was Greta, she was in the pharmacy, her dad runs it? You know Greta?"_

_"Yeah, curly hair? Blonde? Total bitch?"_

_"Yeah, well... she offered to sign my cast and..." He pulled his left arm back to reveal the loser. "I told you it was stupid."_

_"No it's not. Wait a second." He stood up and started digging around the room, going through the cups acting as designated pen holders and drawers he knew had a few pens in them. He inspected a few sharpies he found until he hold one up. Dark red. He sat back down next to Eddie and held his hand out. He hesitantly places the cast-clad arm on his palm and Richie pulled the pen lid off with his teeth. Eddie didn't watch as he scribbled something over the word._

_"I swear to God, if you just write penis on my arm or some shit, I'm killing you and feeding you to Bill's fucking hamster." Richie snorted._

_"Wouldn't dream of it, Eddie my love," he managed through the cap still between his teeth._

_"Don't call me that. How long is this gonna take?"_

_"I'm done!"_

_Eddie took a peak and didn't even notice the change at first. It took a double take for him to see a red V covering the S in LOSER. He blushed up to his ears, trying desperately to come up with a witty remark to throw back at him. He settled on, "It took you that long just to draw a shitty V?"_

_"Artistry takes time, Eds, I don't know what to tell you." He shrugged and replaced the cap on the sharpie. "But, there you go! All better now."_

_"Why 'lover?'" Richie's face reddened and he bit his bottom lip. He was silent for a moment before that dopey smile of his was back on his face._

_"'cause you're more of a lover than a fighter. But I still know you can kick ass." Eddie raised a brow, his stomach flipping at the line. He was still waiting for whatever dumb joke he would use to ruin the moment. "But you're still a loser." Eddie punched him in the arm. _

_"_You're_ a loser!"_

_"Then we're losers together!"_

Richie had gotten LOSER tattooed on his arm, much smaller than it was written on the cast and easily covered, but in the same area. It had to be a coincidence. Richie just thought of it and thought he came up with it, forgetting the cast thing all together. It had been four years, surely he wouldn't remember.

"Where'd you get it?" Bev asked.

"You know that senior, Jacob Green?"

"Oh yeah, didn't he get his own tattoo kit?"

"Yeah, I heard about it from some other people in our grade. He doesn't care about age, just as long as you pay him." 

"Did it hurt?" Ben asked, moving to touch the inked skin. Richie moved his arm away.

"Of course it hurt! And don't touch it, it could get infected."

"Since when did you care about shit getting infected?" Eddie finally said after deciding he had spent enough time gazing down at the tattoo with a bright red face. "Why did you even get a tattoo from someone who isn't a professional? You got a tattoo at seventeen and seriously thought it was a good idea? That's the dumbest thing you've probably ever done! Why couldn't you just wait another year when you could get it done safely? You're gonna lose your arm to an infection all for your stupid edgy phase." The Losers slowly sidled away as they let Eddie rant on and on. Richie looked to them, his eyes peeking over Eddie's head, for sympathy but only received a smirk from Stan and Bev. He glared right back at them. While none of the Losers were watching, too busy getting ready to jump into the Quarry, the two dickheads made hearts with their hands, shit-eating grins on their faces. Richie tried to tell them to fuck right off as best he could without Eddie seeing and getting more pissed off, but it's not like it helped, even if he were able to just up and tell them to fuck off out loud. They entwined their hands, snickering to themselves. Bev stuck a leg up and dramatically kissed Stan's cheek. Richie's face was burning. Eddie finished his ramble and sighed loud enough to bring Richie back down to Earth. "In conclusion, you're a dumbass."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm aware." Richie rolled his eyes and was about to start undressing when he turned to Bev and Stan, eyes pleading for a bit of privacy. They smiled like the little shits they were, and quickly undressed before launching themselves into the Quarry. He turned to Eddie. "You know, I thought you'd be more grateful that I got a tattoo because of you."

"Me?" Eddie asked hesitantly. He had to have heard that wrong, right? Richie wouldn't do that. It was just a coincidence, right? He wasn't _that_ dumb, right? Hearing himself say it, he decided yes; Richie was that dumb.

"Yeah, who else?" He laughed and lightly punched Eddie's shoulder before moving to take off his jeans and shirt. He paused after he had discarded his shirt on the ground. "Can you help me with something?" Eddie paused in the middle of his own undressing to stare at him like a deer in headlights, his lips pressed into a thin line and face red as ever. He stayed silent. "... Eds?" He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sorry, uh- yeah?" He kicked off his shorts the rest of the way and wandered back over to Richie

"I have to wrap up the tattoo before I can go in the water," he said, rifling through his bag until he pulled out a roll of saran wrap and tape. "I can't do it with one hand." He laughed nervously and offered Eddie the objects. he rolled his eyes and pulled Richie's arm out, carefully beginning to wrap his arm with the cling film. 

"This is why you don't get a tattoo, dumb-fuck," he muttered as he smoothed out the wrapping, taping up the end so it didn't come loose. He smiled at Richie and said, "Thanks, by the way," before taking a running jump off the edge. Richie stared after him for a moment, a knot growing in his chest. He cursed under his breath.

_I love him._


	18. Eddie My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bev is a master match-maker ok
> 
> ALSO!!!! I AM NOT ANTAGONISING BEN AND BILL NEAR THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!!! THIS IS JUST HOW I THINK THEY WOULD REACT TO THE IDEA OF R+E DATING WHILST BEING STRAIGHT IN THE 80s IN A HOMOPHOBIC TOWN!!!!! THEY WOULD STILL LOVE AND ACCEPT THEM NO MATTER WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Freddie Mercury's voice rang through the air, the static of the Walkman laying faintly over it. After an afternoon of frustration and fumbling with records and cassette tapes in Richie's room, Mike and Rich finally managed to make the Loser's Mixtape. (While the other Losers watched and did nothing, Mike thought was important to know.) The group had made a list of what songs they wanted on it. Richie elected The Cure, Guns 'N' Roses, Bowie - AKA, the best songs, he would add; Ben timidly requested New Kids On The Block, and lots of it; Mike added Michael Jackson, Queen, Stevie Wonder, because you 'can't make a mixtape without them, are you insane?'; Eddie wanted The Clash and AC/DC - which surprised everyone just a little - then went on to ask for Dolly Parton, Cutting Crew and Van Halen - thoroughly ruining everyone's surprise; Bev wanted Bananarama, Simple Minds, and The Smiths, but demanded, above all, that they add the Teen Queens; Stan wrote down Wham!, The Buggles and Bonnie Tyler; and finally, Bill wanted Elton John, The Beatles and New Order and was super excited when they allowed it, as if there was even a chance they would deny Elton John and The Beatles being on their mixtape. So, they piled their records together, quietly snickering at Ben's New Kid On The Block records and receiving a stare that could kill from Bev, and compiled their playlist.

_There goes my baby... She knows how to rock and roll; she drives me crazy... She gives me hot and cold fever; then she leaves me in a cool, cool sweat. _

Richie pretended to pluck guitar strings, his head bobbing along to the music and sending his wild curls flying everywhere. Eddie watched over his book - Howl's Moving Castle or something, he wasn't exactly paying attention to it - as Richie danced about in his spot on the floor. Bev snickered and joined in with the head-bobbing, her own curly, fiery hair falling around her face. _She really was gorgeous_, he thought. His eyes still drifted back to Richie, unable to move away once he noticed the giddy grin on his face, his smile so wide Eddie worried it might split his cheeks. His glasses were nearing on slipping off his face, sitting just barely on the end of his nose. Absentmindedly, Eddie reached forward and pushed them up himself, flicking his nose on the way back. Richie guffawed and rubbed his nose, putting on his shitty southern drawl and saying, "Why thank you, doll!" 

_Crazy little thing called love, yeah-yeah... Crazy little thing called love, yeah-yeah... Crazy little thing called love, yeah-yeah..._

Mercury's voice slowly faded out and the next song scratched to a start; a strum of a guitar, and the Teen Queen’s voices crooned out of the Walkman. 

_Eddie, my lo-ooove... I love you so-oooooo..._

Richie gasped, his eyes lighting up as Eddie turned red from his shoulders to his ears. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Eddie's hands, pulling him up with him. "It's your song, Eds!"

"Don't fucking call me that!" He half-heartedly tried to sit back down but was unable to rid himself of a reluctant grin and warmth flooding his chest. "What are you trying to do?"

"Come on," Richie giggled, "dance with me, Eds!" He kicked his legs, pulling Eddie's hands back and forth. He snorted and kicked his feet along with him, trying not to hit Richie's ankles. He caught Beverly's eye; she gave an innocent, toothy smile and winked at him. _Oh, that bitch,_ he thought absently. Even in his mind, there was no bite to it. _She did this on purpose._ He scowled at her but it was quickly interrupted when he was spun around, his arm going over his head. He stumbled back a few steps until Richie caught his hand again. 

"Your dancing is shit," he snickered, eyes locked onto Richie's feet to avoid being hit by a wild kick. "You just do a bootleg-can-can to whatever's playing."

"That's just how it be, Eduardo." He closed his eyes as he rocked back and forth from one foot to the other. Eddie's voice caught in his throat before he could protest the nickname. The sun filtered through, golden and warm against Richie's face. His freckles, though having faded since he was thirteen, still sparkled like glitter you couldn't brush away that landed on his cheekbones. He had cut his hair himself recently, having gotten the knack of it after so many years of not scheduling actual haircuts, and it fell a lot shorter than usual. He actually took the time to shorten the back by a few inches, revealing long lost freckles and moles on his neck, long since disappeared from the lack of sun they were getting, but they had started popping up again over the last week and Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of the new additions.

_Eddie, my love, I love you so... How I've wanted for you, you'll never know... Please, Eddie, don't make me waaait too looong. Oh, Eddie, Eddie, I love you so..._

"If you're gonna dance, at least do it _well,_" Eddie grumbled. He held up one hand, bringing Richie's hand with it. His lips pulled into a thin line as Eddie rested a hand on his shoulder and pulled his own hand around his waist. They sidled back and forth, comfortably silent and slow. Until Richie felt the stares of his friends crawling up his back. When he looked at them, they were all smiling - especially Stan and Bev, but when they didn't have those stupid smiles when Eddie and Richie were together? - none of them seemed to be judging them. Richie smiled back.

_Eddie, please write just one line... Tell me your love is still only mine... Please, Eddie, don't make me waaait too looong..._

Richie rocked faster back and forth, dipping their entwined hands up and down, his grin growing wider as he heard Eddie sniggering over the music. Eddie's eyes were closed, his gentle, sun-kissed face calm for once. He spun them around, only stumbling a little bit over their own feet. His hair fell a little out of place and Richie had to resist the urge to reach up and put it back in its place. He wanted to tuck it delicately back with one finger. He wanted to lean forward and kiss the crown of his head. He wanted to not care about the thoughts of the people who were watching them at that very moment. Instead, he settled on standing on his toes and resting his chin on Eddie's head and desperately hoping he couldn't feel the pounding Richie's heart under his hand, or at least blamed it on the moving.

_You left me last September, since that time I've been so alone... Now all I do is wish and wait for you... Eddie, since you've been gone...._

Mike couldn't help the open smile on his face as he watched the two boys sway back and forth across the clubhouse. They were holding each other close, easy grins and dusty-pink cheeks. He'd be soulless _not_ to smile. Eddie tried to his best to spin Richie around, the taller of the two ducking under his arm. The boys giggled amongst themselves, carefully stepped over each other's feet, avoided each other's adoring eyes. Mike knew there was _something_ between them. He wasn't quite sure what it was, it wasn't exactly his place to say, but he had a feeling there was more between Richie and Eddie than just being friends. And whether they told the rest of the Losers, or not, was their business.

_Eddie, my love, I'm sinking fast... The very next day might be my last... Please, Eddie, don't make me waaait too looong... Oh, Eddie, Eddie, I love you so..._

Mike looked over to the rest of the Losers and saw Stan quickly turn his head to the dancers on the other side of the room. He leaned over to Bev, whispered something close to her ear, and they fell into a fit of giggles, concealed by the backs of their hands. He raised a brow at the pair and shuffled over, closer to the group. With his voice drowned out enough by the music that Richie and Eddie couldn't hear him, he asked, "Hey, do you guys think something's up between Rich and Eds?" Bev and Stan shared a look, a smirk playing on their lips. "They seem... _closer_ than most of us are." Stan looked down to his lap.

"Yeah, th-the-they've always buh-been close," Bill muttered back. "Why?"

"No, I mean... _real close._" Mike looked between Ben and Bill, already knowing that Bev and Stan must have caught on long before he had. "What do you guys think?" Ben took another look at the dancing boys who were swaying widely back and forth like human pendulums. He hummed.

"It is a bit weird, now that you mention it."

"Weird? What do you mean weird?" Stan asked, a small, tight smile on his face and his eyebrows raised.

"No, I just mean... I don't know." Ben shrugged.

"Do you think they could be dating?" Mike suggested. Bev snickered. 

"I duh-duh-don't think so. They would've tuh-told us by n-n-now." Bill squinted at the boys for a few seconds longer. "I guess I can k-kind of see it. Str-strange..."

"Oh, well," Ben muttered, "if they date, we saw it coming, but they probably won't. I don't think there's enough queer people in Derry for us to just happen to be friends with two of them." Stan shifted uncomfortably at the word 'queer.' So did Beverly. She noted to herself to talk to Ben about that later.

_Eddie, my love... Oh, Eddie, Eddie, I love you so..._

Richie and Eddie slowed their swaying as the song drew to a close, still humming with laughter. Eddie hid his face in his chest, not wanting him to see how red his face was. Richie's stomach flipped at the touch - which was ridiculous, they were literally waltzing - and he grinned even wider, if that were still possible at that point. His cheeks hurt from all the smiling, his feet were hurting from the heavy landings he'd performed when moving from one to the other, his hands were clammy against Eddie's own and his waist - and he'd never felt better in his life. Eddie calmed his laughter down, letting his eyes flutter shut as the two settled into a slow lean, back and forth, the floorboards creaking under their shifting weight. His heart was pounding a million beats per minute, but he was calm; at peace. He could've stayed in that position, under Richie's chin and in his hold, forever if he were given the choice.

Richie and Eddie were _happy_. Happier than they'd been since they were thirteen.

_Eddie, my love, I love you so..._


	19. Under the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay camping ig  
also I have no fucking clue how the US school system works and Google isn't helping at All so imma just use the Scottish school system for shit?? like National 5 n higher n advanced higher ok? ok

"Camping fucking sucks." The Losers collectively rolled their eyes as Eddie huffed and failed, yet again, to set up his tent. "It's _so_ unsanitary, and _so_ cold, and these tents are _bullshit!_" 

"Oh, shut up, Eddie," Stan groaned. He hit the pegs further into the ground, Mike quietly cheering him on from inside their tent. "I'll help you in a minute. In fact, Richie! Why don't you get off your ass for once today?" 

"Yeah, some fucking help would be fucking nice," Eddie snapped in Richie's direction. He raised his hands in self defence.

"I _am_ helping, thank you very much," he said, fixing his glasses in an attempt to look smart. It never helped, but he thought it did.

"Oh really? How?" Eddie placed his hands on his hips expectedly. A piece of popcorn hit him in the middle of the forehead.

"Providing snacks." Richie smiled and took a piece of popcorn for himself. Eddie squinted his eyes and furrowed his brows, in an attempt to look intimidating when he still looked twelve in the face. He snickered and stood up. "Alright, Spaghetti Head, no need to get your panties in a bunch."

"Oh, beep-fucking-beep." It took another ten minutes of bickering and the tent collapsing in on itself for them to set up their sleeping quarter. Eventually, they stood back and admired their handiwork. They high fived, even through the remains of Eddie's still-hot anger.

"I may have been good in woodwork but _Christ,_" Richie huffed. Eddie rolled his eyes. _But you're just good with school in general,_ he thought about snipping back. It wasn't fair; Richie was the biggest dumbass he'd ever met in his life. He was impulsive, and a loud-mouth, and a jerk, and generally quite annoying, and yet, there he was! A straight A student who excelled in chemistry, physics, and maths. The asshole was even taking higher history just because he could. He hardly studied, hardly paid attention in class, and somehow he was doing perfectly fine. 

"So what are we gonna do now?" Eddie asked over his shoulder to the other boys as he searched for their sleeping bags. "Are we just gonna sit around doing fuck all until it's Prime Camping Time and we can sleep?"

"It's hardly even camping," Mike replied with a roll of his eyes. "It's the _Barrens_ not the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere."

"It's guh-going to be d-duh-dark in, like, an hour th-thu-though," Bill said, poking his head out of his and Ben's tent. "We wuh-won't even have tuh-hime to do much. We should just dih-dick around for a while." He disappeared back through the Velcro flap to tend to the sleeping bags.

"Alright, well I'm going to read until something interesting happens." Eddie pulled a book out of his backpack and sat down inside of the tent. The sun beat down on the fabric, casting a highlighter-blue shadow over his face. Richie milled around him, straightening out the blankets to cover the grass and laying down the sleeping bags. He dug through his own bag for a comic he could lose himself in; anything to distract from how cute Eddie was when he was concentrating. His slightly furrowed brow, his eyes flickering back and forth one side of the page to another. He peeked at the book he was reading; _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. _Huh,_ he thought, _never pitched Eds as the sci-fi type._ Eddie shifted to he was resting his cheek on his knee with the novel resting in his lap. He gingerly turned the page and huffed out a quiet laugh. His delicate fingers held onto the page, ready to push it over as soon as he was finished reading the two-page-spread. He was so... _pretty._ It made Richie's heart ache and clench, how pretty he was. Chestnut brown hair, dark brown, doe eyes, tan skin. He looked so much healthier than he did in the 80s. Less pale, less frail, less like he was going to fall apart at the seams at any moment. Richie had met plenty of Pretty Boys in his time. First of all, his best friends were Stanley Uris, Michael Hanlon, William Denbrough, and Benjamin Hanscom. AKA the four prettiest boys to walk the planet. Stan with his dirty blonde curls and gentle features. Mike with his strong arms and handsome face. Bill with his determined face and never-messy hair. Ben with his hair growing out and his poetry books filled to the brim. And even if that guy was Henry Bowers's cousin, he _was_ pretty cute. There were the boys in his classes, the boys who lived on his street, the boys who frequented the arcade just as often as he did; but none of them would ever make his stomach flip like Edward Kaspbrak. He was the definition of Pretty Boy. Wavy hair, tawny skin, soft hands, soft lips, soft eyes. Everything about him was _soft_ and he was _gorgeous._ If you looked up gorgeous in the dictionary, his picture would be right underneath it. Yes, Richie was probably in love with this boy, but getting with him was never going to happen. Some things were just facts of the world; the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Eddie Kaspbrak, gay or straight, was never going to settle for Richie.

He looked back down to his comic, though it barely caught his attention. Not even _Shazam!_ could distract him from his swelling heart. Over another hour of the Losers chatting - or reading in Eds and Rich's case - the night spilled over the sky like a knocked over inkwell. Little white stars dusted over the black, flecks of chalk splattered across the air above. Eddie and Richie moved from their tent to the edge of the river with Ben and Bill. Stan and Mike were nowhere to be found. Since Mike had to end things with Peggy after only a month of dating her - turns out they weren't as Made For Each Other as they thought - him and Stan had been spending more and more time together. They chatted for a few minutes before they decided to call on the two boys.

"HEY, LOVEBIRDS!" Richie shrieked in the direction of their tent. "If you're done fucking in there, do you mind joining us?" Mike poked his head out, scowling as best he could, though a half-smile still ruined his whole vibe. Stan came out after, fixing his collar and running a hand through his hair. Richie and Eddie looked at each other, eyebrows raised and smirks playing on their lips.

"Beep beep, Richie," Mike mumbled as him and Stan shuffled down to the riverbank and sat among the Losers. They resumed their chatting, only retreating form the water's edge to retrieve a blanket to cover their shorts-clad legs. They slowly filtered back into their tents, the cold, night-time breeze becoming too much of a pain in the ass for them to want to stay out any longer. The air was still warm, not warm enough for the remaining Richie, Eddie and Bill to want to push the blanket off their legs, but it was nice. Richie and Eddie listened to Bill chatter away, sitting in their own tense, awkward bubbles. Bill was wedged between them, yammering on and on as the other two desperately wished for him to give them a bit of alone time.

"Anyway," he mumbled eventually through a yawn, "I think I'm going to go back to the tent." Eddie tried to hold back his smile as Bill shimmied from under the blanket and stood up. "See you guys in the morning." As soon as he was gone and had disappeared into his and Ben's tent, Richie and Eddie shuffled together, their arms pressed to each other and Eddie letting his head topple down onto Richie's shoulder. He felt an overwhelming sense of want filling him, a want to tell Eddie _everything._ He didn't know why. He didn't want Eddie to hate him. And Eddie _would _hate him. If not for the fact that he's gayer than a diamond-encrusted, rainbow dildo, it would be the fact that he'd fallen for Eddie. So it was fucking stupid of him to even consider telling him.

So why did he?

"So, Mike and Stan are definitely a thing." Eddie choked on air and spluttered out a cough. He gave a light, half-assed punch to Richie's ribs.

"Alright, let's not assume anything." He paused for a moment. "But you're totally right."

"I always am, Eduardo."

"That's just statistically incorrect." Richie smiled, looking out to the water as it rushed past in a gentle clatter. He thought of what to say next, not quite enjoying the quiet between them.

"How'd your mom let you stay out here?" he asked. "Tell her it was another 'group project?'" Eddie lifted his head off of his shoulder and gave a half-shrug. 

"Nah." His voice was thick and tired, sleepy. "My mom is a town over to visit some hospital. She's left me, like, ten years worth of meds." Richie snorted.

"And she left you all alone? How long?"

"Two days. Today and tomorrow." Eddie sighed. "How did you convince your parents to let you out here?"

_"Oh, you know, I wrote a post-it note saying I'd be gone for a day or two, kept it on the fridge for five minutes, and then I ripped it to shreds because I remembered my mom would be too passed-out-and-or-drunk-out-of-her-mind to even read it and my dad won't notice it among the other post-it notes about me leaving the house that he never reads anyway, so I just walked out the front door, almost crying."_

Except he didn't say that. He said, "Told them I was going to Bill's house for a sleepover." 

"You don't talk about your parents much," Eddie noted, fiddling with the hem of the blanket. 

"There's... not much to say." Richie shrugged. He wanted to move onto something else. _Anything _else. "They're busy, most of the time." Eddie, thank the stars, did not push any further than that. They sat in a comfortable silence, leaning into the curve of each other's bodies. Richie felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell Eddie. He wanted to tell Eddie that he was gay, he wanted to tell Eddie how much he wished he could kiss him, he wanted to tell Eddie that he was in love with him. _No,_ he told himself, _you're not telling him jack shit. Just keep your mouth shut._

"Hey, Eds?" he said immediately after that thought. _What are you doing?_

"What? And don't call me that."

"Can I tell you something?" _Beep beep, Richie._

"Sure, what is it?"

"Promise you won't hate me?" _Just say never-mind! Say _anything _but what you're about to fucking say._

"Depends. Did you murder someone?"

"No." _Back out. Back the fuck out._

"Then what is it?"

"I think I like,"- _what the fuck are you doing? You are doing a thing and you should not be fucking doing it-_, "boys." He bit his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for rejection; for the yelling; the screaming about how he was disgusting; how he was a pervert; how he was _that_ word.

Instead he was enveloped in silence. He cracked an eye open to look at Eddie. He was covering his mouth with his hands, eyes wide and brimmed with tears. "Eddie?" The wind was completely knocked out of him as Eddie flung his arms around his shoulders. "Whoa, uh... Eds? You good?"

"I thought I was the only one," he laughed. "I thought I was going crazy."

"Crazy? What do you mean?"

"I mean... me too." Eddie pulled back, a wobbly grin on his face and tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. "I... I like guys. Too. I mean." Richie let out a quiet laugh, careful not to wake up or call the attention of the other Losers. He cupped Eddie's face, wiping away the teardrops from his eyes, and smiled. He looked down to Eddie's lips. Then back to his eyes. He was looking down, just a little. He encircled Richie's hand in his own. Like sandpaper against porcelain.

Then Eddie lurched forward and kissed him and, for just a moment, they were the only two people in the whole world.

Eddie was kissing him. Richie blinked. He blinked again. Eddie's lips were soft and gentle. His eyes were closed, brows slightly furrowed and cheeks dusted pink. This was a moment Richie had been daydreaming and fantasising about for years and now that the moment was actually here, he couldn't move. All he could do was scream at himself to _do something. _All that was playing in his mind was _Kiss him back! You dumbass! Move!_

Eddie pulled away and Richie followed for just a second. There was no doubt he looked like a dumbass; gaping like a fish, face flushed red, eyes wide and magnified by his glasses.

"I'm sorry," Eddie breathed. "I should've asked first. I shouldn't have assumed you- that you'd like me just 'cause you like guys." Richie nodded along, barely taking in a single syllable. 

"Yeah, uh-huh, sure, can you just-?" he cut himself off as he cupped Eddie's face and pressed their lips back together.

Now, if there's anyone Richie had expected to be enthusiastic about kissing, it certainly wasn't Eddie Kaspbrak. His hands were everywhere; tracing up and down Richie's waist, his hips, his thighs, tangling into hair. It was like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he was experienced.

Eddie was practically sitting on Richie's lap, pushing him further and further back as the kiss deepened. He squeaked and wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders, clinging onto him to attempt to keep him from falling onto his back. Richie carded his hands through his coffee coloured hair and the hum against his lips sent a shiver down his spine. A hand ventured down Richie's thigh, gentle and light, and pulled it up to wrap his leg around Eddie's waist. 

Richie was yelling at himself, scolding himself for not taking it slow, but he was already in motion and he didn't want to stop moving. He felt like his whole body was on fire; his tongue and lips, the skin under Eddie's hands, his burning cheeks. Eddie tugged his hair and he let a noise roll past his lips. A noise he wasn't even aware he could make, but one he made nonetheless. Eddie yanked himself away, pushing himself up to lean on his hands and hovering well above Richie as he laid flat on his back, and he stared over to the tents.

He stared in a daze up at him, the dopiest and most love-struck grin spreading on his face with his eyes half shut. He was floating on air; he didn't even mind the cold, hard ground digging into his back. Eddie Kaspbrak just kissed him. _M__ore_ than kissed him, really. He shakily pulled himself upright, coming chest to chest with Eddie. he didn't even bother to fix the hair hanging in his eyes or his crooked glasses, giving him a half-blurred view of the world. He realised Eddie was straddling and he felt a wave of heat wash over him. Well, he was _almost _straddling him. He was still holding onto Richie's leg, keeping it wrapped around his waist.

"Did, uh... did anyone see that? Or... hear that?" he asked quietly and Eddie finally looked back at him.

"I don't think so," he mumbled back. "So, um..."

"That was... nice." Richie shuffled back a little so he could sit up straighter. "Where'd you learn that, Eds?"

"Learn what?"

"You can_not_ tell me that was your first kiss."

"Well..." Eddie scratched the back of his neck. "It was."

"Quit bullshitting me, Kaspbrak." Richie leaned in close, a giddy smile still on his face. "Who'd you practise with? Your pillow? Or was it a mannequin?"

"Oh, shut _up__!_" Eddie punched his shoulder but there was little bite behind it. "And seriously, that was my first kiss." Eddie's stomach flipped. Richie was going to make fun of him, he knew it.

"Well, I'm sorry it was with me, then." Eddie furrowed his brows. Not quite the response he was expecting. He was expecting a joke about him being a virgin or an 'Ah, so you realised your mom doesn't count as a first kiss?' Not some self-deprecating bullshit.

"What do you mean?" He scoffed and held Richie's face. "I wanted to kiss you, okay? I've wanted to since I was, what? fourteen?"

"You... you have?" Eddie nodded, snickering at the dumbfounded look on Richie's face. "I, uh... I've wanted to do that too since we were, like, thirteen or something."

"Oh, so you didn't have a thing for my mom after all?" He snorted and planted his head on Eddie's chest. 

"Stop," he groaned, the smile obvious in his voice. He looked up after a few more seconds, a stupid smirk on his lips. "Well, First Kiss Kaspbrak, why don't you teach me a few things?" Eddie snickered.

"You horndog." He kissed Richie but he pulled away, looking just a tad offended.

"Oh, _I'm_ the horndog?" Eddie nodded, giggling. "Excuse me, who was the one who just made out with a guy as his _first kiss?_"

"Beep beep, Richie." He kissed him again, humming a laugh against his lips. His heart was stuttering in his chest. He felt a lump in his throat but it wasn't bad this time, if that made any sense at all. His chest was loose and warm. Everything was warm; his face, his hands, his lips. Richie's hands snaked around his waist, his fingers entwined over the small of his back. He pulled away again, taking a glance over at the tents. "We should sleep." Richie nodded but neither of them moved. His head fell on Eddie's shoulder, a long sigh escaping through his nostrils. "You know, I knew I really liked you for a few years but I never thought it was okay to act on it, so every time I held your hand or hugged you or whatever else I did, I was all like, 'Oh, it's fine, we're just Chummy-Buddy-Fun-Pals! No homo, you know? Ha-ha!'" Richie chuckled into his chest.

"I've liked you for... a while, I just didn't know what to do with it." Richie hummed a laugh. "I was just waiting for either nothing to come of it or for you to hate me for being gay."

"Richie, I'm about as straight as a fucking Twizzler, how could you ever think that?" A twinge of faux-offence coated his words and Richie finally stood up, clumsily taking Eddie with him. 

"Alright," he huffed, "time to sleep. I'm beat." They shuffled back up from the riverbank and collapsed into their tent in a fit of giggles. Eddie zipped the door closed and fell back next to Richie, pulling him in for another kiss. Then he pulled away, the ghost of a frown on his face.

"So... do we tell the others?" 

"We don't have to if you don't want to."

"Do _you_ want to?"

"... No. Do you?"

"Not yet. Does anyone know that you like boys?"

"Stan and Bev cornered me and asked about it, so they know. You?"

"I think Stan knows. He asked me about it while we were studying in the library." 

The boys slipped into their sleeping bags and huddled close together, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders and waists. They fumbled with themselves for a few minutes until they got comfortable. "So, we're not going to tell them? Except maybe Bev and Stan?"

"Yeah," Eddie mumbled, letting his heavy eyelids fall closed. "Like a secret."

"Our secret, Spaghetti."

"Look, just because we made out doesn't mean you get free reign on the nicknames." He pointed a finger in Richie's face.

"Alright," he whispered, a shit-eating smile spreading onto his face, "honeypie."

"_Don't even-!_" Eddie spluttered as his face turned beet red and Richie started cackling. He shushed Eddie, voice wobbling through his laughter.

"You'll wake the others!" They settled down their laughing, laying on their backs and staring up at the ceiling of the neon blue tent. "So, our secret?"

"Our secret."


	20. A Happy Bev Makes Happy Losers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls enjoy a chapter of Richie and Bev being besties  
also this chapter is g o d a w f u l so pls have mercy on me.

Richie and Eddie kissed for probably the millionth time that day, pressing their foreheads together, intertwining their hands and grinning like idiots. The hammock swung gently back and forth every time they leant over their entangled legs to press their lips together. Richie's head was still reeling. They had declared each other as boyfriends within minutes of being alone in the safety of the clubhouse. He didn't know what to do with it all. He'd wanted to date Eddie for so long, take him out to the local diner, share a milkshake with two straws, all that cheesy shit he saw in his comics and in movies. He wanted to do all that cute shit but he couldn't help feeling the anxiety pool in his stomach over asking him. Over anyone seeing them. He couldn't do that to Eddie. He couldn't have Eddie become the Town Faggot #2. 

Eddie tugged his hands away as he heard the distant chattering of the Losers approaching the clubhouse from aboveground. As well as an extra voice, a feminine voice. They climbed down the ladder, one by one, as Eddie and Richie scrambled to fix their hair and cool their blushing faces before they were caught. They raised their comics to their faces and lowered them again when someone started to climb down the ladder. Big, black boots; fishnet tights under rolled up and ripped, baggy, bleached-grey jeans; a black band-tee tied into a knot at the front; rings covering her fingers and bracelets covering her wrists.. She landed with a loud thud on the floor. Shoulder-length, bright red hair; sky blue eyes; a necklace with a key tied to the end.

Beverly Marsh.

"_BEVVY!_" Richie leapt out of the hammock, sprinted across the clubhouse, wrapped his arms around Bev's waist, and lifted her into the air. "I've missed you so much, bitch!"

"I missed you too, cock-sucker!" she shrieked, a wide, toothy grin splitting her cheeks. Richie dropped her back onto her feet and they swayed back and forth in a tight embrace. She beamed at Eddie, waving over Richie's shoulder. "Hey, Eds!"

"Hey, Bev," Eddie said, getting up himself. "It's been a while." Bev wriggled free from Richie's hold and pulled Eddie into a hug. The rest of the Losers hopped down into clubhouse, one after the other.

"We weren't expecting you," Richie said, his words verging on a mumble through his grin. "I guess Billy-Boy here forgot to tell us." He pointed to Bill who stood sheepishly at the foot of the ladder.

"Well, I kind of didn't tell _anyone_ I was coming, so-" she held up jazz hands, "- surprise!" Richie's cheeks were hurting from how much he was smiling. They hadn't seen Bev in three months, barely getting so much as a call after the first week after she had left from her last visit. She went radio-silent for a month until Ben finally worked up the courage to call her first, last month. He said she barely remembered him for a good minute or two. She just blamed it on her aunt. (She didn't like her friends all being boys and refused to talk to her when she brought them up. 'That's not very lady like,' she'd said, 'you should get some girl friends!') They headed out to the Quarry, blasting their mixtape on the Walkman. 

"So, you rea-really remember any of i-it?" Bill asked. "Or uh-us?" Bev nodded, her fire-red flopping around her face. 

"No," she breathed, "I think another month and I would've forgotten completely. Maybe that's why no one ever moves here. Or people who move out never come back to visit." 

"Well, we better make the most out of this visit," Ben said, clearly trying to keep his voice light and happy. "We don't know when we'll see you again after this visit." They all nodded and got ready to leap into the Quarry. Whilst the Losers were leaping off of the cliff's edge, Bev grabbed Richie's hand. She lifted it to her face, inspecting his nails.

"Hey, Trashmouth," she said, "can I come over later? I brought black nail polish with me!" 

"Oh, fuck yeah." Richie punched the air and walked backwards to the cliff before leaping off and crashing into the water below. They splashed around in the water for a few hours, giggling and shoving each other under the water. Eddie left first, rambling about how his mother was going to have an aneurism even after he was completely out of earshot from everyone. Then Stan and Bill. Then Ben and Mike. Until it was just Bev and Richie. They sat around in the freezing cold water for a little while longer before heading back to Richie's house. His mother was asleep downstairs and his father was away at work; they basically had the house to themselves. They collect some paper towels to lay over his carpet and they crept up the stairs to his room. Richie locked the door behind him, just in case, and they sat cross legged on the floor. Bev held her hand out and Richie gingerly laid his overtop. She kissed the back of his hand and they broke into a fit of laughter and giggles. She got to work on painting his nails.

"You've been keeping your hands nice," she mumbled as she dragged the black-covered brush over his nail.

"Kind of hard not to when you don't want to chip the paint."

"Fair enough." She took his other hand and started painting. Richie was suddenly glad he had left the window open on accident the night before; the nail polish fumes were disgusting. "So..."

"So...?"

"How's..." She smirked up at him. "You know?"

"What?"

"_Richie._ You _know_ what I'm on about."

"Just say it, Bevvy."

"Eddie!" she yelled, making Richie jump a little. "Is Eddie gay for you yet?"

"Oh!" A blush fell over his face, creeping up his neck and settling at the tips of his ears. He adjusted his glasses with his free hand. "Well... we _may_ have..."

"Oh, my God." She dropped the brush back into the glass pot, her jaw falling open. "You did _not._"

"We did!" His voice raised a few octaves as a grin broke out onto his face. "We kissed last night!" She squealed and Richie was sure the neighbours could hear it.

"Holy fuck, did you kiss him, or did he-?"

"_He_ kissed _me!_"

"I _told _you he would like you back!" She punched his shoulder. "Tell me everything. Have you told Stan yet?"

"So, we were out camping in the Barrens and we were sitting on the riverbank and I was like, 'hey, man I'm gay as fuck,' and he was all like, 'oh, shit, me too, bitch,' and then he just _fucking kissed me? _And then we were legit making out and turns out that was his _first kiss?_ I'm still fucking reeling, man, I'm so-" He flailed his hands about, smiling like an idiot, "-I don't know. It's great." He held his chin in his palms, eyes glittering behind his thick lenses. He felt giddy. Like a 12-year-old schoolgirl about to go to a dance with her first boyfriend or something. Something cheesy like that. Bev pulled his hands down from his face. 

"You'll smudge it! Be careful!" She laid his hands back down on the paper towels. "Does anyone else know?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't think they even know either of us like dudes. I don't know if we'll ever tell them. They're all probably straight, but we might tell Mike. He gives me _vibes_."

Bev cocked an eyebrow. "Vibes?"

"Yeah. That he'll be chill with it."

"Ah, so you've developed a gaydar."

"A _what?_"

"You know," she drawled with a roll of her eyes, "when you look at someone and you just _know_ they're gay."

"Ohhh." Richie thought for a moment. "To be honest, I think Mike is bi."

"Duh." Bev shrugged and began painting the second coat.

"_Is he?_"

"I don't know. Wouldn't be my place to say, anyway." She moved to the next hand. "But he definitely has a thing for Stan."

"Good for him." He snorted. "I think they actually made out yesterday? But I'm not sure."

"What? _Really?_" The way her eyes lit up made Richie infinitely more happy to have a gossip buddy. None of the boys in his group would ever let him talk about shit like this. Not in a million years. (Plus, there's the fact that he didn't want to out Stan and possibly Mike but that's irrelevant.) He nodded.

"I'm not sure! All I know is they were in their tent with the door zipped up for ages while we were waiting for sunset, when Stan came out he was fixing his hair and his collar 'n' shit, and they were the first to leave back to their tent." Bev barked out a laugh.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely together." She screwed the brush back onto the nail polish jar when her eyes widened. "Wait, what about Peggy? Is he cheating on her?"

"No! God, no! They broke up, like, a month ago. Did he not tell you?"

"No!" She let her jaw drop in faux offence. (It might have been slightly genuine.) "Why'd they end it?"

"He just wasn't as happy with her as he was at the start of their relationship. It wasn't even anything to do with her parents or anyone giving him shit, he just wasn't as happy anymore."

"Aww. Did it go over well?" Richie winced and averted his eyes. "Ah." She held up his hands and blew on the nail polish, tested if they were dry and went rifling through her bag for her top coat. "So other than gay shit, what's been happening since I was gone?"

They chatted for hours on end, periodically stealing snacks from the kitchen - though they didn't need to really sneak about when the only adult in the house was out cold - until the sky was starting to turn orange and the clouds were lined with purple, like blackcurrant cotton candy. The pair were giggling amongst themselves when they heard the front door slamming shut. They jumped, trying to make their laughter die down.

"Richie! I'm home!" his father called. He must have been in a good mood. He almost never greeted anyone when he got home, too focused on getting himself a smoke break and a cup of coffee. Richie couldn't help the little smile on his face. It faltered when he realised he had to get Bev out the house; there was no way he'd still be in a good mood if he had a girl in the house without his permission.

"Hey, dad!" he called back, "I'll be down in a minute!" He stood up and Bev got up with him, already knowing she'd have to climb out the window. "Sorry about this," he mumbled. He pushed the window open and Bev swung one leg over before she pulled Richie into a tight hug.

"It's okay, Rich," she whispered into his ear. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He nodded.

"Probably." She flashed him a sad smile before swinging her other leg over and climbed down the pipes. They waved each other goodbye and she set off on her bike. Richie jogged downstairs and saw his father sitting on the couch in the living room. "Hey," he started hesitantly.

"You will not _believe_ the day I've had..." He launched into a ramble about so-and-so having terrible teeth and arguing that they totally flossed even though they clearly didn't. And he smiled. Any conversation was enough. And it was hard not to be happy when you were smoochin' Eddie Kaspbrak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skjskjs this was shit I just wanted to write Bev n Rich friendship real bad lmao


	21. Dancing Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gang  
it's me  
i'm not dead  
I finally figured out what I wanna do with this chapter  
hurray  
hope anyone who's still reading isn't too mad lmaoo  
it was hard to get in the right mood for this chapter cuz I got when can I see you again by owl city stuck in my head lmao  
song featured: When Can I See You by Babyface

Prom season rolled around faster than the Losers could comprehend. One minute they were back at school, the next they were taking exams, and the next they were at prom, half of them without a date and all of them terrified of graduating. The Losers club was down to five; Ben had moved away and Bev's visit in 1993 really had been her last. All of them - except for Mike - were preparing to move away for college. Bill had gotten into a fancy college in London, Eddie was going to NYU, Stan to Butler University in Indiana, Richie to UCLA. They were to be spread to the winds within months, not knowing if they'll remember each other by the time they manage to settle in and make a call. 

"This is it, huh?" Richie said, his tone sober and dry. He nudged Eddie with his elbow, keeping his other hand in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Our last Summer together?" 

"Oh, don't get fucking sappy now," Eddie moaned, trying his best to look annoyed and only succeeding a little bit. "It's prom night! We're going to have fun, we're going to get shit-faced at Mike's place, and we're gonna make out like no one will try and kill us over it."

"Thank fuck Bowers is gone." Richie took Eddie's hand, rubbing his thumb over the silky smooth skin. He laughed quietly. "Let's go pick up the others, okay? We'll burn the whole 'Raging Homophobes covering every inch of the dance floor' bridge when we get to it." Eddie kissed the back of Richie's hand, entwining their fingers. 

"We'll be fine, you dramatic bitch." Richie snorted and ruffled his hair. "Oh come on! I spent for-fucking-ever fixing this, do you know how long this took? I swear to fucking _God,_ Richie-!" He kept on rambling even as Richie cackled and pulled out of the driveway and into the road, but he didn't pull his hand away. They kept their hold all the way to Mike's house, quickly retracting their hands back into their laps as Mike hopped into the back seat.

"Damn, Mikey knows how to smarten up!" Richie punched Mike in the shoulder as he laughed. Mike was dressed in a grey suit with a black turtleneck and a thin chain necklace. He smiled sheepishly, running a hand over his freshly cut hair, tiny coils of black springing up from under his fingers. 

"Stan is at Bill's place already," he said, a little strained through his wide, excited grin. Still boyish and dorky despite being seventeen. They sped through the town, looking to spot other cars filled with smartly dressed teenagers, until they arrived at Bill's doorstep. Bill was clad in a traditional black suit, his hair styled back and his tie pressed neatly against his shirt and tucked into his trousers. He had his hands shoved in his pockets in a careless way that would crease the fabric and make Stan gag, the jacket folded out of the way to reveal black suspenders. Stan, meanwhile, had his hands folded carefully over each other in front of him, his curls falling just so over his forehead, as if he'd individually placed them there. He wore a beige, three-piece suit and a baby pink tie knotted perfectly straight. Richie looked back at Mike once the car stopped; his eyes were wide as dinner plates and his laps were slightly parted. He sniggered.

"You're gonna catch flies, Mikey," he said, flicking him on the ear. Mike flushed and clamped his jaw shut. They clambered out of the car, laughing at their monkey suits, as Richie called them, and Mrs. Denbrough demanded they take a group photo. They stood in a line; Eddie, Richie, Bill, Mike and Stan. They took a few more, one polaroid for each of the remaining Losers that they should pick up the next day. They climbed back into Richie's parents' car and made their way to the school. Richie parked sloppily - to the annoyance of Stan and Eddie - in one of the few remaining parking spots. They made a beeline for the gymnasium, the pulse of the music already vibrating through the floor, up into their feet and legs. Eddie swallowed thickly. Richie gave his hand a quick squeeze and shot over a comforting smile before letting go and following the others into the gym. 

Eddie could smell the sweat and snuck-in alcohol almost immediately. The place was disgusting; the floor already sticky with spilled punch, the girls' hairstyles already falling from their pins and bobbles, the boys' ties already discarded to hanging loosely around their necks or tied around their foreheads. It was disgusting. Eddie had never felt more excited in his life. Just showing up felt like a direct act of defiance from his mother; showing up with a _boy _felt like a good 'fuck you' before his grand exit when he left for college. He lived in a vague mist of bliss knowing he'd never have to deal with her again once he moved all the way to New York, two whole states away from the memories of Pennywise, memories of his mother, memories of Derry. Memories of the Losers. Memories of Richie. 

He had Richie had saved up enough for two Nokia 2112s and had swapped numbers. The only contacts on their phones were Bill's cell phone, Mike's home phone, Stan's cell and home phone and each other. Richieee and Eds. They made a promise - and were _this close_ to making another blood oath - to call each and every day. Maybe that would stop the memory from fading, like Ben and Beverly's did. Richie was convinced that Eddie was too damn stubborn to ever forget the Losers. Eddie could only hope that was true. 

The music was already giving Eddie a headache, _Baby, I Love Your Way_ blasting through large speakers, as he shuffled through the crowds of swaying teenagers to the drinks table. Richie was right behind him, his glasses squinty and the tape on the bridge threatening to come undone. Eddie laughed, unheard over the yelling and music, and he reached up to straighten the lenses. They stared at each other for just a second too long when Eddie noticed a pair of girl whispering back and forth in each other's ears, one pointing a sly finger at them. He cleared his throat and stepped back. Richie frowned. 

"You okay?" he yelled over the music. 

"Yeah," he yelled back, his cheeks burning as he turned away from the two girls. "Just some assholes talking about us." He turned around, much to the distress of Eddie, and flipped the girls in question off.

"Fuck 'em," Richie muttered. Eddie barely heard him. "Let's just get our drinks and leave." Eddie poured himself some punch and took a sip. He coughed and spluttered as the sharp taste of vodka coated his tongue. _Cheap _vodka, might he add.

"God-fucking-dammit," he spat. He stopped Richie from pouring his own. "Don't drink any, it's spiked already. This shit must be _mostly _vodka, what the fuck."

"Why can't I have any?"

"You still need to drive us to Mike's place." Richie let out a long, drawn out groan and left his cup on the table. 

"Why did I volunteer to be the designated driver again?"

"Because you love your friends and none of us can drive yet."

"Mike can!"

"The pickup is out for repairs."

"Oh, of _course_ it is."

"Stop whining." Eddie rolled his eyes and pulled Richie along by the hand, their touch concealed by the people surrounding them on all sides. "I won't drink either, then. We can all get drunk at Mike's and stay over." Richie thought for a second.

"Deal."

"Wasn't a suggestion." Richie snorted and followed along behind him, fixing his glasses and wishing he'd worn contact lenses. "God, I'm getting a headache already."

"Let's find the others," Richie yelled over the music. Easier said than done. The place was packed and the crowd was swaying from side to side like a choppy ocean surface crashing into them from all sides. The only difference was one was cold and will kill you, the other is humid and probably will kill you. Or, at least _try._

Needless to say, they didn't find the others together. They found Stan as he was pushing his way back out the entrance, Bill downing vodka-punch from a solo cup in the middle of a group of kids who only knew him for his stutter. Mike was nowhere to be seen. Eddie gave up after a few minutes of trying to get everyone together and led Richie back out the front door. The door gradually fell shut and muffled the sound of _Pictures of You_ by _The Cure._ Richie squeezed his hand as he jogged to catch up and walk at Eddie's side. Eddie kept walking and walking until they could only just hear the music from the gymnasium and sat down with his back against the lockers. Richie ran his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand. 

Eddie looked over the baby blue dress pants that covered Richie's legs. They were impossibly baggy; creased and rolled up at the cuffs. His jacket was no better: the pockets had been messily sewed back on around the bottom where a hole has formed somehow. Richie claimed he didn't know how it got there, it'd only been worn once. And, for all his time spent sewing badges onto everything he owned, he still wasn't that great at sewing. You could hardly even call that sewing, just going over the same spot with the most garishly bright thread he could find until the peeling-up corners were firmly stuck on the denim. His eyes dragged up to the creased lapels and spotted the sticking up collar. He reached out his free hand and straightened it down, but didn't let go until he'd pulled Richie in for a brief kiss. Embarrassingly, it gave him a small adrenaline rush; kissing his boyfriend out in the hallway where anyone in the building could walk out and see them. It felt rebellious. It practically was.

He got an idea.

Eddie jumped to his feet and held out a hand. "Dance with me, Trashmouth." Richie raised a brow. "The slow songs are gonna be on soon. Dance with me?" Richie smiled and took his hand, quickly being hauled to his feet and pulled against Eddie's chest. They held hands, Eddie's free hand on Richie's shoulder, and Richie's on Eddie's waist. The current song faded out and the next started with a strum of a guitar. They started to sway back and forth. 

_When can my heart beat again? ...When does the pain ever end? ...When do the tears stop from running over? ... When does 'you'll get over it' begin?_

Eddie held his hand a little tighter, placing his forehead on his shoulder. His heart clenched as Richie rested his cheek atop his head. He was going to miss this: the Losers, the clubhouse, _Richie._ He couldn't bear the thought of moving away without Richie at his side. He knew that in the blink of an eye, he was going to have forgotten all about him, whether he tried to savour the memories or not. He shouldn't dwell on it. But it was hard not to when they were mere weeks away from possibly never meeting again. Sure, they'd have their phone numbers, but who's to say they wouldn't just delete the contact because they don't remember knowing any 'Eds's or 'Big Bill's or 'Mikey's? 

_I hear what you're sayin', but it's not making sense... So when can I see you?_

Richie pulled Eddie just a little closer, pursing his lips and biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to stop the tears in his eyes from spilling over. He wasn't ready to forget Eddie. He couldn't drop out of university before he'd even started, he knew, but he wasn't fucking ready to let go. He laced their fingers together. He'd come to realise that, soon enough, he wouldn't have the faintest idea who Eddie, Eds, Eddie Spaghetti was and he wouldn't feel sad that they could no longer sleep next to each other, or hold hands, or kiss each other behind the school, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if it was possible to get those memories back. Just by chance. Beverly got hers back when she came back to visit. What if there was a time limit?

_When can I see you again? ...When can my heart beat again? ...When can I see you again? ...And when can I breathe again? ...And when can I see you?_

Eddie hiccupped a sob and that was when the dam broke. The boys broke down into floods of tears, arms wrapping around each other as they settled into a bone-crushing hug. They clung to each other like they might disappear entirely if they dared to let go. They fell into a tangle on the floor, in the middle of the hall. 

"I can't lose you yet," Richie sobbed. "I can't forget you after thirteen years of knowing you. I _can't_." Eddie pushed his fingers into Richie's hair.

"I want to remember you." Eddie took the back of Richie's coat into his fist. "I want to go with you." They could barely speak as they sobbed into each other's shoulders and tried to keep the noise down. After what could've been seconds or maybe hours, they pulled away. Eyes red and puffy and trying to calm their trembling breathing, Richie took Eddie's face in his hands.

_I love you_, he wanted to say as he wiped Eddie's tears away.

_I love you_, he wanted to say as he pressed a soft kiss to Eddie's lips.

_I love you_, he wanted to say as he pushed their foreheads together.

"Sorry I messed up your hair, Eds," he said instead. Eddie quietly laughed, and that was enough for him.

"I'm gonna miss your dumb ass."

* * *

Richie really should've thought twice before allowing three already drunk boys into his dad's car. But, then again, he wasn't exactly known for thinking things over even _one_ time. Stan and Bill are belting _Mickey_ \- changed to Mikey - with Mike sitting in the seat in the middle, smiling with nothing behind the eyes. Richie's not sure if he's even medically conscious. 

They arrived at Mike's barn and tumble inside, Eddie and Richie grabbing a bottle of beer each as soon their eyes landed on the cooler in attempt to catch up with the other three. It was lucky they're lightweights, he guessed. He looked at Eddie and could still see his red eyes and swollen lips. Still see the tear tracks leaving his skin sticky. The others seemed to not notice it, or they didn't mention it. Mike dragged out his record player and his mother's old ABBA record.

"I know we're not seventeen anymore, _but-!_" Mike slurred as he set up the needle, "-we've been _crowned _as the Dancing Queens, so it still applies!" 

"How many Dancing Queens are there?" Stan asked, staring at his bottle of beer with an intensity that usually only came out during his birdwatching sessions; brows furrowed, eyes wide, a firm frown.

"Like, seven million billion thousand," Mike grumbled. Bill's brows shot the heavens and Richie cackled at the sight of it. _Dancing Queen_ scratched to a start and Mike threw his arms up in triumph. "_I have mastered the art of the vinyl!_" The remaining Losers cheer as he tumbles down the floor, right in between Bill and Stan. He hugs them both close. They sit around the barn, quietly humming away to the song. Bill takes a swig of his beer.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," Bill murmured, just barely louder than the record. Eddie fell into Richie's side, and he put an arm around his shoulders on instinct. He raised his bottle. "London can suck my dick."

Richie raised his bottle as high as he could be bothered. "Londonnn... suggmadick," he slurred in an even shittier version of the British Guy and took a drink. Eddie snorted and flapped his arm up in an attempt at sleepy solidarity. "What's even in London that's so great?"

"My college, uh... London eyeball... Ben."

"It's _Big_ Ben," Stan corrected.

"Right, uh, Big Ben Clock Man... The Queen. She's a big one..."

Stan and Bill continued to list of important London things and Richie looked over at Mike. He was watching Eddie and Richie with a careful eye, one brow raised. Richie's chest tightened and he cleared his throat. He wobbled to a stand and announced that he needed some air. Eddie followed him. He stepped out the front door and turned the corner of the building. Searching his pockets for a pack of cigarettes, he cursed as he came up dry. Instead, he took a deep breath of the cool, June evening air, and let out a long sigh. The quiet conversations of sheep reached his ears from a distance and he decidedly focused on that instead of the fact that Mike definitely knew. He knew Mike knew, and if Mike knew, then anyone could know. Bill could know. Ben could know. Anyone in fucking Derry could have known. Sheep! That was what he should've been thinking about. Sheep and their wool and their little faces and how they absolutely knew he was gay-

"Rich!" Eddie jogged over to him, brows knitted together in that way they always settled into when he was worried about Richie. "What's up? Did something happen?"

"Fuck if I know," Richie grumbled back. He sat down in the grass, tilting his head back against the wall. Eddie crouched down next to him. "Sorry. I- I don't know. Still _emotional, _I guess. Ew."

"Emotions are ew?"

"Yeah, they've always been ew. When have they not been ew?"

"Valid point." 

"Exactly. I am always right."

"No, that's- that's not correct. You, sir, are not-"

"I think Mike knows."

Eddie paused. "Huh?" He finally sat down with his legs in a basket. "Knows what?"

"About us." Eddie still looked confused. "The gay shit, man! The shit we've been doing for two years!"

"_Oh!_ Right. That thing. Right. It's been two years?" Eddie smiled wide, clutching his bottle in two hands.

"Yeah, almost, I think." Richie shook his head. "Not the part I want you to focus on, Tozier!" Eddie started to giggle.

"Tozier?"

"Yeah? What?"

"You called me Tozier." Richie's face flooded with colour, a deep red that rode high on his cheeks. "You think I'd take your last name? Fat chance, _Kaspbrak!_"

"Tozier is way cooler than fuckin' Kasp- not the point! Shut up!" Eddie leaned into his side, resting his head on Richie's shoulder. "Mike might know about us!"

"Who fucking cares?" Richie didn't speak for a few moments. "If he doesn't like it he can get it up himself, and if he doesn't mind, it's a win for us!"

"I care."

"Hm?"

"I care if he knows," Richie whispered. Shit, maybe he _was_ still emotional. He didn't look as Eddie swivelled around to sit on his heels in front of him. "I... I want to tell the Losers ourselves. Y'know? I don't want it to be like some puzzle they can figure out. Or- or some game that they can win, I-" Eddie pulled him into a kiss. His lips were familiar as ever, his fingers ghosting over his cheek, and before he knew it, he sat back. 

"Richie, it's okay," he said, quiet and a gentle smile obvious in his voice. "We can tell them when we're ready. And if that never comes, that's okay too."

"But I _want_ them to know. They're our best friends."

"And they will. On _our terms._ Just don't worry about that right now. We can do this when we're ready. When _you're _ready." Richie smiled and rubbed his eyes. 

"Who knew all your infinite wisdom would come out when you're drunk." Eddie punched his shoulder but laughed nonetheless, just as another voice joined the session. 

"Hey, guys," Mike calls out. "You good?" Eddie shuffled back a little. Richie met his eyes. They raised their brows in silent conversation. Richie nodded. Eddie nodded. They both nodded and looked back at Mike who was rightfully confused. 

"Mike, we have something we want to tell you," Richie started. Mike sat down across from them. He sat forward and listened intently.

"Is this a serious chat? Am I getting kicked out the Losers Club? Are you pregnant?" Richie burst out laughing.

"Yes, Mike," Eddie said, serious as ever. "Richie's pregnant and it's mine. We're running away to have a Vegas wedding."

"On the note of me and Eddie fucking," Richie said, practically all as one word, and he took a deep breath. "Eddie and I have been dating for almost two years." 

Mike's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Have you told the others?"

"Bev and Stan know," Eddie explained. Mike was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Makes sense," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, "you two. Y'know, I had a vague idea, but I was never sure." 

"When did you think we were, like... a thing?" Richie hesitantly asked, fidgeting with his fingers and the hem of his shirt. 

"That one time you two danced to that one Scream Queens song." He shrugged. "Just had a feeling. I'm happy for you two. You suit each other." The two boys smiled and Mike sprung forward to pull them into a hug, one arm around each of their necks. They hugged back just as tight. Mike patted their backs and sat back, coming face to face with their teary eyes and red cheeks. They all started to laugh as they wiped their eyes. 

"I'm gonna head back inside. You two clean yourselves up, okay?" They nodded as Mike got up and wandered back around the corner and into the barn. Eddie sighed happily and kissed Richie's cheek.

"You ready to back in?" he asked. Richie took his hand and squeezed it.

"Yeah. Let's go."


End file.
